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LA  YS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME 

TOGETHER    WITH 

IVRY,    THE    ARMADA,   A    RADICAL    WAR 

SONG,  THE  BA  TTLE  OF  MONCONTOUR, 

SONGS   OF    THE    CIVIL    IV A R 

BY 

LORD  MACAU  LA  V 

ILLUSTRATED   BY  GEORGE   SCHARF,  Jzm. 


iXEVy   YORK  AND    LONDON 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 
Ube  Tknicljerbocfter  press 


Press  ot 

G.  P.  Putnam's  sons 

New  York 


CONTENTS. 


I,AYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROMK. 

Preface     i 

HoRATius 41 

The  Battle  of  the  I^ake  Regillus         ...  83 

VlRGLNTA 139 

The  Prophecy  of  Capys 1S3 

miscelIvAn:e:ous  poems. 

IVRY  :  A  SONG  OF  the  HUGUENOTS   .    .    .    •  215 

The  Armada  :  A  Fragment 221 

A  Radical  War-Song 227 

The  Battle  of  Moncontour 231 

Songs  of  the  Civil  War 233 


2230733 


PREFACE 


THAT  what  is  called  the  history  of  the  kings 
and  early  consuls  of  Rome  is  to  a  great  ex- 
tent fabulous,  few  scholars  have,  since  the  time 
of  Beaufort,  ventured  to  deny.  It  is  certain 
that,  more  than  three  hundred  and  sixty  years 
after  the  date  ordinarily  assigned  for  the  foun- 
dation of  the  city,  the  public  records  were, 
with  scarcely  an  exception,  destroyed  by  the 
Gauls.  It  is  certain  that  the  oldest  annals  of 
the  commonwealth  were  compiled  more  than 
a  century  and  a  half  after  this  destruction  of  the 
records.  It  is  certain,  therefore,  that  the  great 
Latin  writers  of  the  Augustan  age  did  not  pos- 
sess those  materials,   without  which  a  trust- 


preface 


worthy  account  of  the  infancy  of  the  republic 
could  not  possibly  be  framed.  Those  writers 
own,  indeed,  that  the  chronicles  to  which  they 
had  access  were  filled  with  battles  that  were 
never  fought,  and  consuls  that  were  never  in- 
augurated ;  and  we  have  abundant  proof  that, 
in  these  chronicles,  events  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance, such  as  the  issue  of  the  war  with  Por- 
sena,  and  the  issue  of  the  war  with  Brennus, 
were  grossly  misrepresented.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances a  wise  man  will  look  with  great 
suspicion  on  the  legend  which  has  come  down 
to  us.  He  will  perhaps  be  inclined  to  regard 
the  princes  who  are  said  to  have  founded  the 
civil  and  religious  institutions  of  Rome,  the 
son  of  Mars,  and  the  husband  of  Egeria,  as 
mere  mythological  personages,  of  the  same 
class  with  Perseus  and  Ixion.  As  he  draws 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  confines  of  authentic 
history,  he  will  become  less  and  less  hard  of 
belief.  He  will  admit  that  the  most  important 
parts  of  the  narrative  have  some  foundation  in 
truth.  But  he  will  distrust  almost  all  the  de- 
tails, not  only  because  they  seldom  rest  on  any 


preface 


solid  evidence,  but  also  because  he  will  con- 
stantly detect  in  them,  even  when  they  are 
within  the  limits  of  physical  possibility,  that 
peculiar  character,  more  easily  understood  than 
defined,  which  distinguishes  the  creations  of 
the  imagination  from  the  realities  of  the  world 
in  which  we  live. 

The  early  history  of  Rome  is  indeed  far  more 
poetical  than  any  thing  else  in  the  Latin  litera- 
ture. The  loves  of  the  Vestal  and  the  Good 
War,  the  cradle  laid  among  the  reeds  of  Tiber, 
the  fig-tree,  the  she-wolf,  the  shepherd's  cabin, 
the  recognition,  the  fratricide,  the  rape  of  the 
Sabines,  the  death  of  Tarpeia,  the  fall  of  Hostus 
Hostilius,  the  struggle  of  Mettus  Curtius 
through  the  marsh,  the  women  rushing  with 
torn  raiment  and  dishevelled  hair  between  their 
fathers  and  their  husbands,  the  nightly  meet- 
ings of  Numa  and  the  Nymph  by  the  well  in 
the  sacred  grove,  the  fight  of  the  three  Romans 
and  the  three  Albans,  the  purchase  of  the 
Sibylline  books,  the  crime  of  Tullia,  the  simu- 
lated madness  of  Brutus,  the  ambiguous  reply 
of  the  Delphian   oracle  to  the  Tarquins,   the 


preface 


wrongs  of  Lucretia,  the  heroic  actions  of  Ho- 
ratius  Codes,  of  Scaevola,  and  of  Cloelia,  the 
battle  of  Regillus  won  by  the  aid  of  Castor  and 
Pollux,  the  defence  of  Cremera,  the  touching 
story  of  Coriolanus,  the  still  more  touching 
story  of  Virginia,  the  wild  legend  about  the 
draining  of  the  Alban  lake,  the  combat  between 
Valerius  Corvus  and  the  gigantic  Gaul,  are 
among  the  many  instances  which  wnll  at  once 
suggest  themselves  to  every  reader. 

In  the  narrative  of  Livy,  who  was  a  man  of 
fine  imagination,  these  stories  retain  much  of 
their  genuine  character.  Nor  could  even  the 
tasteless  Dionysius  distort  and  mutilate  them 
into  mere  prose.  The  poetry  shines,  in  spite  of 
him,  through  the  dreary  pedantry  of  his  eleven 
books.  It  is  discernible  in  the  most  tedious 
and  in  the  most  superficial  modem  works  on 
the  early  times  of  Rome.  It  enlivens  the  dul- 
ness  of  the  "Universal  History,"  and  gives  a 
charm  to  the  most  meagre  abridgments  of  Gold- 
smith. 

Even  in  the  age  of  Plutarch  there  were  dis- 
cerning men  w^ho  rejected  the  popular  account 


preface 


of  the  foundation  of  Rome,  because  that  .ac- 
count appeared  to  them  to  have  the  air,  not  of 
a  histor)-,  but  of  a  romance  or  a  drama.  Plu- 
tarch, who  was  displeased  at  their  incredulity, 
had  nothing  better  to  say  in  reply  to  their  argu- 
ments than  that  chance  sometimes  turns  poet,  ■ 
and  produces  trains  of  events  not  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  most  elaborate  plots  which 
are  constructed  by  art.*  But  though  the  exist- 
ence of  a  poetical  element  in  the  early  history 
of  the  Great  City  was  detected  so  many  years 
ago,  the  first  critic  who  distinctly  saw  from 
what  source  that  poetical  element  had  been 
derived  was  James  Perizonius,  one  of  the  most 
acute  and  learned  antiquaries  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.     His  theory,  which,  in  his  own 

*  'YTTOTrTOv  fjikv  evi'oi?  ecrrl  to  Spa/xaTiKov  kol  7rAa<rjaaTu)6es. 
ov  Set  Se  aniaTelv,  rr^v  rvxyju  opuiVTa<;,  o'iwv  noirjixdTojp  6tj. 
ju-iovpyos  eo-Tt — Pliii.  Rom.  viii.  This  remarkable  passage 
has  been  more  grossly  misinterpreted  than  any  other  in 
the  Greek  language,  where  the  sense  was  so  obvious. 
The  lyatin  version  of  Cruserius,  the  French  version  of 
Amyot,  the  old  English  version  by  several  hands,  and 
the  latter  English  version  by  I^anghorne,  are  all  equally 
destitute  of  every  trace  of  the  meaning  of  the  original. 
None  of  the  translators  saw  even  that  TrotTjuxa  is  a 
poem.    They  all  render  it  an  event. 


preface 


days,  attracted  little  or  no  notice,  was  revived 
in  the  present  generation  by  Niebuhr,  a  man 
who  would  have  been  the  first  writer  of  his 
time,  if  his  talent  for  communicating  truths 
had  borne  any  proportion  of  his  talent  for 
investigating  them.  That  theory  has  been 
adopted  by  several  eminent  scholars  of  our 
own  country,  particularly  by  the  Bishop  of 
St.  David's,  by  Professor  Maiden,  and  by  the 
lamented  Arnold.  It  appears  to  be  now  gen- 
erally received  by  men  conversant  with  clas- 
sical antiquity  ;  and  indeed  it  rests  on  such 
strong  proofs,  both  internal  and  external,  that 
it  will  not  be  easily  subverted.  A  popular  ex- 
position of  this  theory,  and  of  the  evidence  by 
which  it  is  supported,  may  not  be  without  in- 
terest even  for  readers  who  are  unacquainted 
with  the  ancient  languages. 

The  Latin  literature  which  has  come  down  to 
us  is  of  later  date  than  the  commencement  of 
the  Second  Punic  War,  and  consists  almost  ex- 
clusively of  works  fashioned  on  Greek  models. 
The  Latin  metres,  heroic,  elegiac,  lyric,  and 
dramatic,  are  of  Greek  origin.     The  best  Latin 


Preface 


epic  poetry  is  the  feeble  echo  of  the  Iliad  and 
Odyssey.  The  best  Latin  eclogues  are  imita- 
tions of  Theocritus.  The  plan  of  the  most  fin- 
ished didactic  poem  in  the  Latin  tongue  was 
taken  from  Hesiod.  The  Latin  tragedies  are 
bad  copies  of  the  masterpieces  of  Sophocles  and 
Euripides.  The  Latin  comedies  are  free  trans- 
lations from  Demophilus,  Menander,  and  Apol- 
lodorus.  The  Latin  philosophy  was  borrowed, 
without  alteration,  from  the  Portico  and  the 
Academy  ;  and  the  great  Latin  orators  con- 
stantly proposed  to  themselves  as  patterns  the 
speeches  of  Demosthenes  and  Lysias. 

But  there  was  an  earlier  Latin  literature,  a 
literature  truly  Latin,  which  has  wholly  per- 
ished, which  had,  indeed,  almost  wholly  per- 
ished long  before  those  whom  we  are  in  the 
habit  of  regarding  as  the  greatest  Latin  writers 
were  born.  That  literature  abounded  with  met- 
rical romances,  such  as  are  found  in  every 
country  where  there  are  much  curiosity  and  in- 
telligence, but  little  reading  and  writing.  All 
human  beings,  not  utterly  savage,  long  for 
some  information  about  past  times,  and  are  de- 


8  preface 


\ 


lighted  by  narratives  which  present  pictures  to 
the  eye  of  the  mind.  But  it  is  only  in  very  en- 
lightened communities  that  books  are  readily 
accessible.  Metrical  composition,  therefore, 
which,  in  a  highly  civilized  nation,  is  a  mere 
luxury,  is,  in  nations  imperfectly  civilized,  al 
most  a  necessary  of  life,  and  is  valued  less  on^ 
account  of  the  pleasure  which  it  gives  to  the  ear 
than  on  account  of  the  help  which  it  gives  to 
the  memoryjl  A  man  who  can  invent  or  embel- 
lish an  interesting  story,  and  put  it  into  a  form 
which  others  may  easily  retain  in  their  recollec- 
tion, will  always  be  highly  esteemed  by  a  people! 
eager  for  amuserment  and  information,  but  des-l 
titute  of  libraries./  {Such  is  the  origin  of  ballad 
poetry,  a  species  of  composition  which  scarcely 
ever  fails  to  spring  up  and  flourish  in  every  so- 
ciety, at  a  certain  point  in  the  progress  towards 
refinement.  Tacitus  informs  us  that  songs  were 
the  only  memorials  of  the  past  which  the  ancient 
Germans  possessed.  We  learn  from  Lucan  and 
from  Ammianus  Marcellinus  that  the  brave  ac- 
tions of  the  ancient  Gauls  were  commemorated 
in  the  verses  of  bards.     During  man}-  ages,  and 


preface 


through  many  revolutions,  minstrelsy  retained 
its  influence  over  both  the  Teutonic  and  the 
Celtic  race.  The  vengeance  exacted  by  the 
spouse  of  Attila  for  the  murder  of  Siegfried  was 
celebrated  in  rhymes,  of  which  Germany  is  still 
justly  proud.  The  exploits  of  Athelstane  were 
commemorated  by  the  Anglo-Saxons,  and  those 
of  Canute  by  the  Danes,  in  rude  poems,  of 
which  a  few  fragments  have  come  down  to  us. 
The  chants  of  the  Welsh  harpers  preserved, 
through  ages  of  darkness,  a  faint  and  doubtful 
memory  of  Arthur.  In  the  Highlands  of  Scot- 
land may  still  be  gleaned  some  relics  of  the  old 
songs  about  Cuthullin  and  Fingal.  The  long 
struggle  of  the  Servians  against  the  Ottoman 
power  was  recorded  in  lays  full  of  martial  spirit. 
We  learn  from  Herrera  that,  when  a  Peruvian 
Inca  died,  men  of  skill  were  appointed  to  cele- 
brate him  in  verses,  which  all  the  people  learned 
by  heart,  and  sang  in  public  on  days  of  festival. 
The  feats  of  Kurroglou,  the  great  freebooter  of 
Turkistan,  recounted  in  ballads  composed  by 
himself,  are  known  in  every  village  of  Northern 
Persia.     Captain    Beechey  heard  the   bards  of 


10  preface 


1 


the  Sandwich  Islands  recite  the  heroic  achieve- 
ments of  Tamehameha,  the  most  illustrious  of 
their  kings.  Mungo  Park  found  in  the  heart  of 
Africa  a  class  of  singing  men,  the  only  annalists 
of  their  rude  tribes,  and  heard  them  tell  the 
story  of  the  victory  which  Darnel,  the  negro 
prince  of  the  Jaloffs,  won  over  Abdulkader,  the 
Mussulman  tyrant  of  Foota  Torra.  This  species 
of  poetry  attained  a  high  degree  of  excellence 
among  the  Castilians,  before  they  began  to  copy 
Tuscan  patterns.  It  attained  a  still  higher  de- 
gree of  excellence  among  the  English  and  the 
Lowland  Dutch,  during  the  fourteenth,  fif- 
teenth, and  sixteenth  centuries.  But  it  reached 
its  full  perfection  in  ancient  Greece  ;  for  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  great  Homeric  poems 
are  generically  ballads,  though  widely  dis- 
tinguished from  all  other  ballads,  and  indeed 
from  almost  all  other  human  compositions,  by 
transcendent  sublimity  and  beauty. 

As  it  is  agreeable  to  general  experience  that 
at  a  certain  stage  in  the  progress  of  society  bal- 
lad poetry  should  flourish,  so  it  is  also  agreeable 
to  general  experience  that  at  a  subsequent  stage 


preface 


in  the  progress  of  society  ballad  poetrj^  should 
be  undervalued  and  neglected.  Knowledge 
advances :  manners  change  :  great  foreign  mod- 
els of  composition  are  studied  and  imitated. 
The  phraseology  of  the  old  minstrels  becomes 
obsolete.  Their  versification,  which,  having 
received  its  laws  only  from  the  ear,  abounds  in 
irregularities,  seems  licentious  and  uncouth. 
Their  simplicity  appears  beggarly  when  com- 
pared with  the  quaint  forms  and  gaudy  coloring 
of  such  artists  as  Cowley  and  Gongora.  The 
ancient  lays,  unjustly  despised  by  the  learned 
and  polite,  linger  for  a  time  in  the  memory  of 
the  vulgar,  and  are  at  length  too  often  irretriev- 
ably lost.  We  cannot  wonder  that  the  ballads 
of  Rome  should  have  altogether  disappeared, 
when  we  remember  how  very  narrowly,  in  spite 
of  the  invention  of  printing,  those  of  our  own 
country  and  those  of  Spain  escaped  the  same 
fate.  There  is  indeed  little  doubt  that  oblivion 
covers  many  English  songs  equal  to  any  that 
were  published  by  Bishop  Percy,  and  many 
Spanish  songs  as  good  as  the  best  of  those  which 
have  been  so  happily  translated  by  Mr.  Lock- 


12  preface 


hart.  Eighty  years  ago  England  possessed  only 
one  tattered  copy  of  "  Childe  Waters  and  Sir 
Cauline,"  and  Spain  only  one  tattered  copy  of 
the  noble  poem  of  the  "  Cid."  The  snufF  of  a 
candle,  or  a  mischievous  dog,  might  in  a  mo- 
ment have  deprived  the  world  forever  of  (any 
of)  those  fine  compositions.  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
who  united  to  the  fire  of  a  great  poet  the  minute 
curiosity  and  patient  diligence  of  a  great  anti- 
quary, was  but  just  in  time  to  save  the  precious 
relics  of  the  "Minstrelsy  of  the  Border."  In 
Germany,  the  lay  of  the  Nibelungs  had  been 
long  utterly  forgotten,  when  in  the  eighteenth 
century  it  was,  for  the  first  time,  printed  from 
a  manuscript  in  the  old  library  of  a  noble  fam- 
ily. In  truth,  the  only  people  who,  through  their 
whole  passage  from  simplicity  to  the  highest 
civilization,  never  for  a  moment  ceased  to  love 
and  admire  their  old  ballads,  were  the  Greeks. 

That  the  early  Romans  should  have  had  bal- 
lad poetry,  and  that  this  poetry  should  have 
perished,  is  therefore  not  strange.  It  would, 
on  the  contrary,  have  been  strange  if  these 
things  had  not  come  to  pass  ;  and  we  should  be 


preface  13 


justified  in  pronouncing  them  highly  probable, 
even  if  we  had  no  direct  evidence  on  the  sub- 
ject. But  we  have  direct  evidence  of  unques- 
tionable authority. 

Ennius,  who  flourished  in  the  time  of  the 
Second  Punic  War,  was  regarded  in  the  Augus- 
tan age  as  the  father  of  Latin  poetry.  He  was, 
in  truth,  the  father  of  the  second  school  of 
Latin  poetry,  the  only  school  of  which  the 
works  have  descended  to  us.  But  from  Ennius 
himself  we  learn  that  there  were  poets  who 
stood  to  him  in  the  same  relation  in  which  the 
author  of  the  romance  of"  Count  Alarcos  "  stood 
to  Garcilaso,  or  the  author  of  the  *'Lytell 
Geste  of  Robyn  Hode  "  to  Lord  Surrey.  En- 
nius speaks  of  verses  which  the  fauns  and  the 
bards  were  wont  to  chant  in  the  old  time,  when 
none  had  yet  studied  the  graces  of  speech, 
when  none  had  yet  climbed  the  peaks  sacred  to 
the  goddesses  of  Grecian  song.  "  Where," 
Cicero  mournfully  asks,  "are  those  old  verses 
now?" * 

*  "  Quid  ?    Nostri  veteres  versus  ubi  sunt  ? 
.    .    .    '  Quos  olim  Fauni  vatesque  canebant, 


14  Ipjrcface 


Contemporary  with  Enuius  was  Quintus  Fab- 
ius  Pictor,  the  earliest  of  the  Roman  annalists. 
His  account  of  the  infancy  and  youth  of  Rom- 
ulus and  Remus  has  been  preserved  by  Dio- 
nysius,  and  contains  a  very  remarkable  refer- 
ence to  the  ancient  Latin  poetry.  Fabius  says 
that  in  his  time  his  countrymen  were  still  in  the 
habit  of  singing  ballads  about  the  Twins.  "  Ev- 
en in  the  hut  of  Faustulus," — so  these  old  lays 
appear  to  have  run, — "the  children  of  Rhea 
and  Mars  were,  in  port  and  in  spirit,  not  like 
unto  swineherds  or  cowherds,  but  such  that  men 

Cum  neque  Musarum  scopulos  quisquam  superarat, 
Nee  dicti  studiosus  erat.'  "  Brutus,  xviii. 

The  Muses,  it  should  be  obsen'ed,  are  Greek  divinities. 
The  Italian  goddesses  of  verse  were  the  Camoenae.  At  a 
later  period,  the  appellations  were  used  indiscriminate- 
ly ;  but  in  the  age  of  Ennius  there  was  probably  a  dis- 
tinction. In  the  epitaph  of  Nsevius,  who  was  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  old  Italian  school  of  poetry,  the 
Camoenae,  not  the  Muses,  are  represented  as  grieving  for 
the  loss  of  their  votary.  The  "Musarum  scopuli "  are 
evidently  the  peaks  of  Parnassus. 

Scaliger,  in  a  note  on  Varro  {De  Lingua  Latina,  lib. 
vi.),  suggests  with  great  ingenuity  that  the  fauns,  who 
were  represented  by  the  superstition  of  later  ages  as  a 
race  of  monsters,  half  gods  and  half  brutes,  may  really 
have  been  a  class  of  men  who  exercised  in  L,atium,  at  a 
very  remote  period,  the  same  functions  which  belonged 
to  the  magians  in  Persia  and  to  the  bards  in  Gaul. 


Ipreface  15 


might  well  guess  them  to  be  of  the  blood  of 
kings  and  gods."  •* 

Cato  the  Censor,  who  also  lived  in  the  days  of 

*  Oi  8e  avSpuOevTe^  yivovrat,  Kara  re  a^LMcriv  /u.op</)rj?  /cat 
(^poi'rjjLtaTO?  oyKOv,  ov  <ruo(/)op^ot?  KaX  j3ovk6Aoi5  eoi/core?,  aAA' 
oiov?  av  Tts  a^coicreie  tou?  e/c  ^acnkeiov  re  (^vvra^  ve'voi;?,  /cai 
dirb  6ai/a6i'wi'  CTTropas  ■yeveVSaifOjU.t^Oju.eVov?,  cb?  e;'  rots  Trarpt'oi? 
v^ij'ots  VTTo  'Pwjuatwv  ert  koX  vvv  aSerai. — Dion.  Hdl.,  i.  79. 
This  passage  has  sometimes  been  cited  as  if  Dionysius 
had  been  speaking  in  his  own  person,  and  had,  Greek  as 
he  was,  been  so  industrious  or  so  fortunate  as  to  discover 
some  valuable  remains  of  that  early  I^atin  poetry  which 
the  greatest  Latin  writers  of  his  age  regretted  as  hope- 
lessly' lost.  Such  a  supposition  is  highly  improbable  ;  and 
indeed  it  seems  clear  from  the  context  that  Dionysius, 
as  Reiske  and  other  editors  evidently  thought,  was 
merely  quoting  from  Fabius  Pictor.  The  whole  passage 
has  the  air  of  an  extract  from  an  ancient  chronicle,  and 
is  introduced  by  the  words,  Koii'to?  ixkv  <l>ai3io?,  6  Ilt/cTwp 
Aeyo/u.ei'o?,  rfihe  ypd(f)€t- 

Another  argument  may  be  urged  which  seems  to  de- 
serve consideration.  The  author  of  the  passage  in  ques- 
tion mentions  a  thatched  hut  which  in  his  time  stood 
between  the  summit  of  Mount  Palatine  and  the  Circus. 
This  hut,  he  says,  was  built  by  Romulus,  and  was  con- 
stantly kept  in  repair  at  the  public  charge,  but  never  in 
any  respect  embellished.  Now,  in  the  age  of  Dionysius 
there  certainly  was  at  Rome  a  thatched  hut,  said  to  have 
been  that  of  Romulus.  But  this  hut,  as  we  learn  from 
Vitruvius,  stood,  not  near  the  Circus,  but  in  the  Capitol. 
{yit.ii.,  I.)  If,  therefore,  we  understand  Dionysius  to 
speak  in  his  own  person,  we  can  reconcile  his  statement 
with  that  of  Vitruvius  only  by  supposing  that  there  were 
at  Rome  in  the  Augustan  age  two  thatched  huts,  both 


i6  {preface 


the  Second  Punic  War,  mentioned  this  lost 
literature  in  his  lost  work  on  the  antiquities  of 
his  country.  Many  ages,  he  said,  before  his 
time,  there  were  ballads  in  praise  of  illustrious 
men  ;  and  these  ballads  it  was  the  fashion  for 
believed  to  have  been  built  by  Romulus,  and  both  care- 
fully repaired  and  held  in  high  honor.  The  objections 
to  such  a  supposition  seem  to  be  strong.  Neither  Dio- 
nysius  nor  Vitruvius  speaks  of  more  than  one  such  hut. 
Die  Cassius  informs  us  that  twice  during  the  long  ad- 
ministration of  Augustus  the  hut  of  Romulus  caught 
fire,  (xlviii.,  43,  liv.  29.)  Had  there  been  two  such  huts, 
would  he  not  have  told  us  of  which  he  spoke?  An  Eng- 
lish historian  would  hardly  give  an  account  of  a  fire  at 
Queen's  College  without  saying  whether  it  was  at 
Queen's  College,  Oxford,  or  at  Queen's  College,  Cam- 
bridge. Marcus  Seneca,  Macrobius,  and  Conon,  a  Greek 
writer  from  whom  Photius  has  made  large  extracts, 
mention  only  one  hut  of  Romulus,— that  in  the  Capitol. 
{M.  Seneca,  Contr.,  i.,  6  ;  Macrobius,  Sat.,  {.,  15  ,  Photius, 
Bibl.,  186.)  Ovid,  lyivy,  Petronius,  Valerius  Maximus, 
I,ucius  Seneca,  and  St.  Jerome  mention  only  one  hut  of 
Romulus  without  specifying  the  site.  {Ovid.  Fasti,  iii., 
183  ;  Liv.,  v.,  53  ;  Petronius,  Fragm.  ;  Val.  Max.,  iv.,  4  ; 
L.  Seneca,  Consolatio  ad  Helviam  ;  D.  Hieroti.  ad  Paulini- 
anum  de  Didymo.) 

The  whole  difficulty  is  removed,  if  we  suppose  that 
Dionysius  was  merelj'  quoting  Fabius  Pictor.  Nothing 
is  more  probable  than  that  the  cabin,  which  in  the  time 
of  Fabius  stood  near  the  Circus,  might,  long  before  the 
age  of  Augustus,  have  been  transported  to  the  Capitol, 
as  the  place  fittest,  by  reason  both  of  its  safety  and  of  its 
sanctity,  to  contain  so  precious  a  relic. 

The  language  of  Plutarch  confirms  this  hypothesis. 


preface  17 


the  guests  at  banquets  to  sing  in  turn  while  the 
piper  played.  "Would,"  exclaims  Cicero, 
"  that  we  still  had  the  old  ballads  of  which  Cato 
speaks  !  "  * 

Valerius  Maximus  gives  us  exactly  similar  in- 
formation, without  mentioning  his  authority, 
and  observes  that  the  ancient  Roman  ballads 

He  describes  with  great  precision  the  spot  where  Romu- 
lus dwelt,  on  the  slope  of  Mount  Palatine  leading  to  the 
Circus  ;  but  he  says  not  a  word  implying  that  the  dwell- 
ing was  still  to  be  seen  there.  Indeed,  his  expressions 
imply  that  it  was  no  longer  there.  The  evidence  of 
Solinus  is  still  more  to  the  point.  He,  like  Plutarch, 
describes  the  spot  where  Romulus  had  resided,  and 
says  expressly  that  the  hut  had  been  there,  but  that 
in  his  time  it  was  there  no  longer.  The  site,  it  is  cer- 
tain, was  well-remembered  ;  and  probably  retained  its 
old  name,  as  Charing  Cross  and  the  Haymarket  have 
done.  This  is  probably  the  explanation  of  the  words 
"casa  Romuli,"  in  Victor's  description  of  the  Tenth 
Region  of  Rome,  under  Valentinian. 

*  Cicero  refers  twice  to  this  important  passage  in  Cato's 
Antiquities  :  ''  Gravissimus  auctor  in  Originibus  dixit 
Cato,  morem  apud  majores  hunc  epularum  fuisse,  ut 
deinceps,  qui  accubarent,  canerent  ad  tibiam  clarorum 
\nrorum  laudes  atque  virtutes.  Ex  quo  perspicuum  est, 
et  cantus  tum  fuisse  rescript osvocum  sonis,etcarmina." 
—  Tusc.  Quczst.,  iv.,  2.  Again  :  "  Utinam  exstarent  ilia 
carmina,  quse,  multis  sseculis  ante  suam  aetatem,  in 
epulis  esse  cantitata  a  singulis  convivis  de  clarorum  viro- 
rum  laudibus,  in  Originibus  scriptum  reliquit  Cato." — 
Brutus,  xix. 


r8  preface 


were  probably  of  more  benefit  to  the  young  than 
all  the  lectures  of  the  Athenian  schools,  and 
that  to  the  influence  of  the  national  poetry  were 
to  be  ascribed  the  virtues  of  such  men  as  Camillus 
and  Fabricius.* 

Varro,  whose  authority  on  all  questions  con- 
nected with  the  antiquities  of  his  country  is 
entitled  to  the  greatest  respect,  tells  us  that  at 
banquets  it  was  once  the  fashion  for  boys  to 
sing,  sometimes  with  and  sometimes  without 
instrumental  music,  ancient  ballads  in  praise  of 
men  of  former  times.  These  young  performers, 
he  observes,  were  of  unblemished  character,  a 
circumstance  which  he  probably  mentioned  be- 
cause, among  the  Greeks,  and  indeed  in  his 
time  among  the  Romans  also,  the  morals  of 
singing  boys  were  in  no  high  repute,  f 

*  "  Majores  natu  in  conviviis  ad  tibias  egregia  superio- 
rum  opera  carmine  comprehensa  pangebant,  quo  ad  ea 
imitandajuventutem  alacriorem  redderent.  .  .  .  Quas 
Athenas,  quam  scholam,  quae  alienigena  studia  huic 
domesticae  disciplinse  praetulerim  ?  Inde  oriebantur 
Camilli,  Scipiones,  Fabricii,Marcelli,Fabii."—  Fc/.  Max., 
ii.,  I. 

f  "  In  conviviis  pueri  modesti  ut  cantarent  carmina 
antiqua,  in  quibus  laudes  erant  niajorum,  et  assa  voce, 
et  cum  tibicine." — Nonius,  Assa  voce  pro  sola. 


preface  19 


The  testimony  of  Horace,  though  given  inci- 
dentally, confirms  the  statements  of  Cato,  Vale- 
rius Maximus,  and  Varro.  The  poet  predicts 
that,  under  the  peaceful  administration  of  Au- 
gustus, the  Romans  will,  over  their  full  goblets, 
sing  to  the  pipe,  after  the  fashion  of  their 
fathers,  the  deeds  of  brave  captains,  and  the 
ancient  legends  touching  the  origin  of  the  city.* 

The  proposition,  then,  that  Rome  had  ballad- 
poetry  is  not  merely  in  itself  highly  probable, 
but  is  fully  proved  by  direct  evidence  of  the 
greatest  weight. 

This  proposition  being  established,  it  becomes 
easy  to  understand  why  the  early  history  of  the 
city  is  unlike  almost  every  thing  else  in  Latin 
literature,  native  where  almost  every  thing  else 
is  borrowed,    imaginative  where  almost  every 


Nosque  et  profestis  lucibus  et  sacris, 
Inter  jocosi  munera  Liberi, 

Cum  prole  matronisque  nostris, 
Rite  Deos  prius  apprecati, 
Virtute  functos,  more  patrum,  duces, 
I,ydis  remixto  carmine  tibiis, 

Trojamque,  et  Anchisen,  et  almae 
Progeniem  Veneris  canemus." 

Carm.,  iv.,  15. 


20  preface 


thing  else  is  prosaic.  We  can  scarcely  hesitate 
to  pronounce  that  the  magnificent,  pathetic, 
and  truly  national  legends,  which  present  so 
striking  a  contrast  to  all  that  surrounds  them, 
are  broken  and  defaced  fragments  of  that  early 
poetry  which,  even  in  the  age  of  Cato  the  Cen- 
sor, had  become  antiquated,  and  of  which  Tully 
had  never  heard  a  line. 

That  this  poetry  should  have  been  suffered  to 
perish  will  not  appear  strange  when  we  con- 
sider how  complete  was  the  triumph  of  the 
Greek  genius  over  the  public  mind  of  Italy.  It 
is  probable  that  at  an  early  period  Homer  and 
Herodotus  furnished  some  hints  to  the  Latin 
minstrels  *  ;  but  it  is  not  till  after  the  war  with 
Pyrrhus  that  the  poetry  of  Rome  began  to  put 
off  its  old  Ausonian  character.  The  transfor- 
mation was  soon  consummated.  The  con- 
quered, says  Horace,  led  captive  the  conquer- 
ors. It  was  precisely  at  the  time  at  which  the 
people  rose  to  unrivalled  political  ascendancy 
that  they  stooped  to  pass  under  the  intellectual 
yoke.     It  was  precisely  at  the  time  at  which  the 

*  See  the  preface  to  the  Lay  of  the  Battle  of  Regillus. 


Ipretace  21 


sceptre  departed  from  Greece  that  the  empire 
of  her  language  and  of  her  arts  became  uni- 
versal and  despotic.  The  revolution,  indeed, 
was  not  effected  without  a  struggle.  Naevius 
seems  to  have  been  the  last  of  the  ancient  line 
of  poets.  Bnnius  was  the  founder  of  a  new 
dynasty.  Naevius  celebrated  the  First  Punic 
War  in  Saturnian  verse,  the  old  national  verse 
of  Italy.*    Knnius  sang  the  Second  Punic  War 

*  Cicero  speaks  highly  in  more  than  one  place  of 
this  poem  of  Nsevius  ;  Ennius  sneered  at  it,  and  stole 
from  it. 

As  to  the  Saturnian  measure,  see  Hermann's  Elementa 
Doctrin<E  MetriccE,  iii.,  9 

The  Saturnian  line,  according  to  the  grammarians, 
consisted  of  two  parts.  The  first  was  a  catalectic  dime- 
ter iambic  ;  the  second  was  composed  of  three  trochees. 
But  the  license  taken  by  the  early  I^atin  poets  seems  to 
have  been  almost  boundless.  The  most  perfect  Satur- 
nian line  which  has  been  preserved  was  the  work,  not 
of  a  professional  artist,  but  of  an  amateur  : 

"  Dabunt  malum  Metelli  Ngevio  poetse." 

There  has  been  much  difference  of  opinion  among 
learned  men  respecting  the  history  of  this  measure. 
That  it  is  the  same  with  a  Greek  measure  used  by 
Archilochus  is  indisputable.  {Bentley,  Phalaris,  xi.)  But 
in  spite  of  the  authority  of  Terentianus  Maurus,  and  of 
the  still  higher  authority  of  Bentley,  we  may  venture  to 
doubt  whether  the  coincidence  was  not  fortuitous.  We 
constantly  find   the    same  rude  and  simple   numbers 


22  preface 


in  numbers  borrowed  from  the  Iliad.  The  elder 
poet,  in  the  epitaph  which  he  wrote  for  himself, 

in  diflferent  countries,  under  circumstances  which  make 
it  impossible  to  suspect  that  there  has  been  imitation 
on  either  side.  Bishop  Heber  heard  the  children  of  a 
village  in  Bengal  singing  Radha,  Radha,  to  the  tune  of 
My  boy  Billy.  Neither  the  Castilian  nor  the  German 
minstrels  of  the  middle  ages  owed  any  thing  to  Paros 
or  to  ancient  Rome.  Yet  both  the  poem  of  the  Cid  and 
the  poem  of  the  Nibelungs  contain  many  Saturnian  ver-* 
ses  ;  as — 

"  Kstas  nuevas  d  mio  Cid  eran  venidas." 
"  A  mi  lo  dicen  ;  &  ti  dan  las  orejadas." 

"  Man  mohte  michel  wunder  von  Sifride  sagen." 
"  Wa  ich  den  Kiinic  vinde  daz  sol  man  mir  sagen." 

Indeed  there  cannot  be  a  more  perfect  Saturnian  line 
than  one  which  is  sung  in  every  English  nursery — 
"  Thequeen  was  in  her  parlor  eating  bread  and  honey  "; 

yet  the  author  of  this  line,  we  may  be  assured,  borrowed 
nothing  from  either  Nsevius  or  Archilochus. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  by  no  means  improbable  that 
two  or  three  hundred  years  before  the  time  of  Ennius, 
some  lyatin  minstrel  may  have  visited  Sybaris  or  Cro- 
tona,  may  have  heard  some  verses  of  Archilochus  sung, 
may  have  been  pleased  with  the  metre,  and  may  have 
introduced  it  at  Rome.  This  much  is  certain,  that  the 
Saturnian  measure,  if  not  a  native  of  Italy,  was  at  least 
so  early  and  so  completely  naturalized  there  that  its  for- 
eign origin  was  forgotten. 

Bentley  says  indeed  that  the  Saturnian  measure  was 
first  brought  from  Greece  into  Italy  by  Naevius.  But 
this  is  merely  obiter  dictum ,  to  use  a  phrase  common  in 


IPreface  23 


and  -which  is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  early- 
Roman    diction   and  versification,    plaintively 

our  courts  of  law,  and  would  not  have  been  deliberately 
maintained  by  that  incomparable  critic,  whose  memory 
is  held  in  reverence  by  all  lovers  of  learning.  The  argu- 
ments which  might  be  brought  against  Bentley's  asser- 
tion—for it  is  mere  assertion,  supported  by  no  evidence 
—are  innumerable.    A  few  will  suffice  : 

1.  Bentley's  assertion  is  opposed  to  the  testimony  of 
Ennius.  Ennius  sneered  at  Naevius  for  writing  on  the 
First  Punic  War  in  verses  such  as  the  old  Italian  bards 
used  before  Greek  literature  had  been  studied.  Now 
the  poem  of  Naevius  was  in  Satumian  verse.  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  Ennius  could  have  used  such  expressions,  if  the 
Saturnian  verse  had  been  just  imported  from  Greece  for 
the  first  time  ? 

2.  Bentley's  assertion  is  opposed  to  the  testimony  of 
Horace.  "  When  Greece,"  says  Horace,  ''  introduced  her 
arts  into  our  unci%nlized  country,  those  rugged  Satur- 
nian numbers  passed  away . "  Would  Horace  have  said 
this  if  the  Saturnian  numbers  had  been  imported  from 
Greece  just  before  the  hexameter? 

3.  Bentley's  assertion  is  opposed  to  the  testimony  of 
Festus  and  of  Aurelius  Victor,  both  of  whom  positively 
say  that  the  most  ancient  prophecies  attributed  to  the 
fauns  were  in  Saturnian  verse. 

4.  Bentley's  assertion  is  opposed  to  the  testimony  of 
Terentianus  Maurus,  to  whom  he  has  himself  appealed. 
Terentianus  Maurus  does  indeed  say  that  the  Satumian 
measure,  though  believed  by  the  Romans  from  a  very 
early  period  ("  credidit  vetustas  ")  to  be  of  Italian  inven- 
tion, was  really  borrowed  from  the  Greeks.  But  Teren- 
tianus Maurus  does  not  say  that  it  was  first  borrowed  by 
Naevius.      Nay,  the  expressions  used  by  Terentianus 


24  fbretace 


boasted  that  the  Latin  language  had  died  with 
him.*  Thus  what  to  Horace  appeared  to  be 
the  first  faint  dawn  of  Roman  literature,  ap- 
peared to  Nsevius  to  be  its  hopeless  setting.  In 
truth,  one  literature  was  setting,  and  another 
dawning. 

The  victory  of  the  foreign  taste  was  decisive  ; 
and  indeed  we  can  hardly  blame  the  Romans 
for  turning  away  with  contempt  from  the  rude 
lays  which  had  delighted  their  fathers,  and  giv- 
ing their  whole  admiration  to  the  immortal 
productions  of  Greece.  The  national  romances, 
neglected  by  the  great  and  the  refined  whose 
education  had  been  finished  at  Rhodes  or 
Athens,  continued,  it  may  be  supposed,  during 
some  generations,  to  delight  the  vidgar.     While 

Maurus  clearly  imply  the  contrary.  For  how  could  the 
Romans  have  believed,  from  a  very  early  period,  that 
this  measure  was  the  indigenous  production  of  Latium, 
if  it  was  really  brought  over  from  Greece  in  an  age  of 
intelligence  and  liberal  curiosity,  in  the  age  which  gave 
birth  to  Ennius,  Plautus,  Cato  the  Censor,  and  other  dis- 
ting-uished  writers  ?  If  Bentley 's  assertion  were  correct, 
there  could  have  been  no  more  doubt  at  Rome  about  the 
Greek  origin  of  the  Saturnian  measure  than  about  the 
Greek  origin  of  hexameters  or  Sapphics. 
*  Aulus  Gellius,  Nodes  AtticcB,  i.,  24. 


Ipreface  25 


Virgil,  in  hexameters  of  exquisite  modulation, 
described  the  sports  of  rustics,  those  rustics 
were  still  singing  their  wild  Saturnian  ballads.* 
It  is  not  improbable  that,  at  the  time  w^hen 
Cicero  lamented  the  irreparable  loss  of  the 
poems  mentioned  by  Cato,  a  search  among  the 
nooks  of  the  Apennines,  as  active  as  the  search 
which  Sir  Walter  Scott  made  among  the  de- 
scendants of  the  moss-troopers  of  Liddesdale, 
might  have  brought  to  light  many  fine  remains 
of  ancient  minstrelsy.  No  such  search  w^as 
made.  The  Ivatin  ballads  perished  forever. 
Yet  discerning  critics  have  thought  that  they 
could  still  perceive  in  the  early  history  of  Rome 
numerous  fragments  of  this  lost  poetry,  as  the 
traveller  on  classic  ground  sometimes  finds, 
built  into  the  hea\y  wall  of  a  fort  or  convent,  a 
pillar  rich  with  acanthus  leaves,  or  a  frieze 
where  the  Amazons  and  Bacchanals  seem  to 
live.  The  theatres  and  temples  of  the  Greek 
and  the  Roman  were  degraded  into  the  quarries 
of  the  Turk  and  the  Goth.  Even  so  did  the 
ancient  Saturnian  poetry  become  the  quarry  in 
*  See  Servius,  in  Georg.  ii.,  385. 


26  preface 


which  a  crowd  of  orators  and  annalists  found 
the  materials  for  their  prose. 

It  is  not  difiScult  to  trace  the  process  by 
•which  the  old  songs  were  transmuted  into  the 
form  which  they  now  wear.  Funeral  panegyric 
and  chronicle  appear  to  have  been  the  interme- 
diate links  which  connected  the  lost  ballads 
with  the  histories  now  extant.  From  a  very 
early  period  it  was  the  usage  that  an  oration 
should  be  pronounced  over  the  remains  of  a 
noble  Roman.  The  orator,  as  we  learn  from 
Polybius,  was  expected,  on  such  an  occasion, 
to  recapitulate  all  the  services  which  the  ances- 
tors of  the  deceased  had,  from  the  earliest  time, 
rendered  to  the  commonwealth.  There  can  be 
little  doubt  that  the  speaker  on  whom  this  duty 
was  imposed  would  make  use  of  all  the  stories 
suited  to  his  purpose  which  were  to  be  found  in 
the  popular  lays.  There  can  be  as  little  doubt 
that  the  family  of  an  eminent  man  would  pre- 
serve a  copy  of  the  speech  which  had  been 
pronounced  over  his  corpse.  The  compilers  of 
the  early  chronicles  would  have  recourse  to 
these  speeches  ;  and  the  great  historians  of  a 


preface  27 


later  period  would  have  recourse  to  the  chron- 
icles. 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  select  a  particular 
stor>',  and  to  trace  its  probable  progress  through 
these  stages.  The  description  of  the  migration 
of  the  Fabian  house  to  Cremera  is  one  of  the 
finest  of  the  many  fine  passages  which  lie  thick 
in  the  earlier  books  of  Livy.  The  Consul,  clad 
in  his  military  garb,  stands  in  the  vestibule  of 
his  house,  marshalling  his  clan,  three  hundred 
and  six  fighting  men,  all  of  the  same  proud 
patrician  blood,  all  worthy  to  be  attended  by 
the  fasces,  and  to  command  the  legions.  A  sad 
and  anxious  retinue  of  friends  accompanies  the 
adventurers  through  the  streets  ;  but  the  voice 
of  lamentation  is  drowned  by  the  shouts  of  ad- 
miring thousands.  As  the  procession  passes 
the  Capitol,  prayers  and  vows  are  poured  forth, 
but  in  vain.  The  devoted  band,  lea\dng  Janus 
on  the  right,  marches  to  its  doom  through  the 
Gate  of  Evil  Luck.  After  achieving  high  deeds 
of  valor  against  overwhelming  numbers,  all 
perish  save  one  child,  the  stock  from  which  the 
great  Fabian  race  was  destined  again  to  spring 


28  f^retace 


for  the  safety  and  glory  of  the  commonwealth. 
That  this  fine  romance,  the  details  of  which  are 
so  full  of  poetical  truth,  and  so  utterly  destitute 
of  all  show  of  historical  truth,  came  originally 
from  some  lay  which  had  often  been  sung  with 
great  applause  at  banquets,  is  in  the  highest 
degree  probable.  Nor  is  it  difl&cult  to  imagine 
a  mode  in  which  the  transmission  might  have 
taken  place.  The  celebrated  Quintus  Fabius 
Maximus,  who  died  about  twenty  years  before 
the  First  Punic  "War,  and  more  than  forty  years 
before  Bnnius  was  born,  is  said  to  have  been 
interred  with  extraordinary  pomp.  In  the  eulo- 
gy pronounced  over  his  body  all  the  great 
exploits  of  his  ancestors  were  doubtless  recount- 
ed and  exaggerated.  If  there  were  then  extant 
songs  which  gave  a  vivid  and  touching  descrip- 
tion of  an  event,  the  saddest  and  the  most 
glorious  in  the  long  history  of  the  Fabian  house, 
nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  that  the 
panegyrist  should  borrow  from  such  songs  their 
finest  touches,  in  order  to  adorn  his  speech.  A 
few  generations  later  the  songs  would  perhaps 
be  forgotten,  or  remembered  only  by  shepherds 


ll^retace  29 


and  vine-dressers.  But  the  speech  would  cer- 
tainly be  presen-ed  in  the  archives  of  the  Fabian 
nobles.  Fabius  Pictor  would  be  well  acquainted 
with  a  document  so  interesting  to  his  personal 
feelings,  and  would  insert  large  extracts  from 
it  in  his  rude  chronicle.  That  chronicle,  as  we 
know,  was  the  oldest  to  which  Livy  had  access. 
hivj  would  at  a  glance  distinguish  the  bold 
strokes  of  the  forgotten  poet  from  the  dull 
and  feeble  narrative  by  which  they  were  sur- 
rounded, would  retouch  them  with  a  delicate 
and  powerful  pencil,  and  would  make  them 
immortal. 

That  this  might  happen  at  Rome  can 
scarcely  be  doubted ;  for  something  verj- 
like  this  has  happened  in  several  countries, 
and,  among  others,  in  our  own.  Perhaps 
the  theory  of  Perizonius  cannot  be  better  il- 
lustrated than  by  showing  that  what  he  sup- 
poses to  have  taken  place  in  ancient  times 
has,  beyond  all  doubt,  taken  place  in  modem 
times. 

"  History,"  says  Hume  with  the  utmost  grav- 
ity, "  has  preserved  some  instances  of  Edgar's 


so  Preface 

amours  from  which,  as  from  a  specimen,  we 
may  form  a  conjecture  of  the  rest."  He  then 
tells  very  agreeably  the  stories  of  Elfleda  and 
Elfrida,  two  stories  which  have  a  most  sus- 
picious air  of  romance,  and  which,  indeed, 
greatly  resemble,  in  their  general  character, 
some  of  the  legends  of  early  Rome.  He  cites, 
as  his  authority  for  these  two  tales,  the  chron- 
icle of  William  of  Malmesbury,  who  lived  in 
the  time  of  King  Stephen.  The  great  majority 
of  readers  suppose  that  the  device  by  which 
Elfrida  was  substituted  for  her  young  mistress, 
the  artifice  by  which  Athelwold  obtained  the 
hand  of  Elfrida,  the  detection  of  that  artifice, 
the  hunting  party,  and  the  vengeance  of  the 
amorous  king,  are  things  about  which  there  is 
no  more  doubt  than  about  the  execution  of 
Anne  Boleyn  or  the  slitting  of  Sir  John  Coven- 
try's nose.  But  when  we  turn  to  William  of 
Malmesbury,  we  find  that  Hume,  in  his  eager- 
ness to  relate  these  pleasant  fables,  has  over- 
looked one  very  important  circumstance.  Wil- 
liam does  indeed  tell  both  the  stories  ;  but  he 
gives  us  distinct  notice  that  he  does  not  warrant 


Ipretace  31 


their  tnitli,  and  that  they  rest  on  no  better  au- 
thority than  that  of  ballads.* 

Such  is  the  way  in  which  these  two  well- 
known  tales  have  been  handed  down.  They 
originally  appeared  in  a  poetical  form.  They 
found  their  way  from  ballads  into  an  old 
chronicle.  The  ballads  perished ;  the  chronicle 
remained.  A  great  historian,  some  centuries 
after  the  ballads  had  been  altogether  forgotten, 
consulted  the  chronicle.  He  was  struck  by  the 
lively  coloring  of  these  ancient  fictions  ;  he 
transferred  them  to  his  pages  ;  and  thus  we 
find  inserted,  as  unquestionable  facts,  in  a 
narrative  which  is  likely  to  last  as  long  as  the 
English  tongue,  the  inventions  of  some  min- 
strel whose  works  were  probably  never  com- 
mitted to  writing,  whose  name  is  buried  in 
oblivion,  and  whose  dialect  has  become  obso- 
lete. It  must,  then,  be  admitted  to  be  possible, 
or  rather  highly  probable,  that  the  stories  of 

*  "Infamias  quas  post  dicam  magis  resperserunt  can- 
tilense."  Edgar  appears  to  have  been  most  mercilessly 
treated  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  ballads.  He  was  the  favorite 
of  the  monks  ;  and  the  monks  and  the  minstrels  were  at 
deadly  feud. 


32  {preface 


Romulus  and  Remus,  and  of  the  Horatii  and 
Curiatii,  may  have  had  a  similar  origin. 

Castilian  literature  will  furnish  us  with  an- 
other parallel  case.  Mariana,  the  classical 
historian  of  Spain,  tells  the  story  of  the  ill- 
starred  marriage  which  the  King  Don  Alonso 
brought  about  between  the  heirs  of  Carrion  and 
the  two  daughters  of  the  Cid.  The  Cid  be- 
stowed a  princely  dower  on  his  sons-in-law. 
But  the  young  men  were  base  and  proud, 
cowardly  and  cruel.  They  were  tried  in  dan- 
ger, and  found  wanting.  They  fled  before  the 
Moors,  and  once,  when  a  lion  broke  out  of  his 
den,  they  ran  and  crouched  in  an  unseemly 
hiding-place.  They  knew  that  they  were  de- 
spised, and  took  counsel  how  they  might  be 
avenged.  They  parted  from  their  father-in- 
law  with  many  signs  of  love,  and  set  forth  on  a 
journey  with  Dona  Elvira  and  Dona  Sol.  In 
a  solitary  place  the  bridegrooms  seized  their 
brides,  stripped  them,  scourged  them,  and  de- 
parted, leaving  them  for  dead.  But  one  of  the 
house  of  Bivar,  suspecting  foul  play,  had  fol- 
lowed the  travellers  in   disguise.     The  ladies 


preface  33 


were  brought  back  safe  to  the  house  of  their 
father.  Complaint  was  made  to  the  king.  It 
was  adjudged  by  the  Cortes  that  the  dower 
given  by  the  Cid  should  be  returned,  and  that 
the  heirs  of  Carrion,  together  with  one  of  their 
kindred,  should  do  battle  against  three  knights 
of  the  party  of  the  Cid.  The  guilty  youths 
would  have  declined  the  combat  ;  but  all  their 
shifts  were  in  vain.  They  were  vanquished  in 
the  lists,  and  forever  disgraced,  while  their 
injured  wives  were  sought  in  marriage  by  great 
princes.* 

Some  Spanish  writers  have  labored  to  show, 
by  an  examination  of  dates  and  circumstances, 
that  this  story  is  untrue.  Such  confutation  was 
surely  not  needed  ;  for  the  narrative  is  on  the 
face  of  it  a  romance.  How  it  found  its  way 
into  Mariana's  history  is  quite  clear.  He  ac- 
knowledges his  obligations  to  the  ancient 
chronicles  ;  and  had  doubtless  before  him  the 
"  Cronica  del  famoso  Cavallero  Cid  Ruy  Diez 
Campeador,"  which  had  been  printed  as  early 
as  the  year  1552.  He  little  suspected  that  all 
*  Mariana  lib.  x.,  cap.  4. 


34  preface 

the  most  striking  passages  in  this  chronicle 
were  copied  from  a  poem  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, a  poem  of  which  the  language  and  versifi- 
cation had  long  been  obsolete,  but  which  glowed 
with  no  common  portion  of  the  fire  of  the  Iliad. 
Yet  such  was  the  fact.  More  than  a  century 
and  a  half  after  the  death  of  Mariana,  this 
venerable  ballad,  of  which  one  imperfect  copy 
on  parchment,  four  hundred  years  old,  had 
been  preserved  at  Bivar,  was  for  the  first  time 
printed.  Then  it  was  found  that  every  inter- 
esting circumstance  of  the  story  of  the  heirs  of 
Carrion  was  derived  by  the  eloquent  Jesuit  from 
a  song  of  which  he  had  never  heard,  and  which 
was  composed  by  a  minstrel  whose  very  name 
had  long  been  forgotten.* 

Such,  or  nearly  such,  appears  to  have  been 
the  process  by  which  the  lost  ballad  poetry  of 
Rome  was  transformed  into  history.    To  reverse 


*  See  the  account  which  Sanchez  gives  of  the  Bivar 
manuscript  in  the  first  volume  of  the  Coleccion  de 
Poesias  Castellanas  anteHores  al  Siglo  XV.  Part  of  the 
story  of  the  lords  of  Carrion,  in  the  poem  of  the  Cid, 
has  been  translated  by  Mr.  Frere  in  a  manner  above  all 
praise. 


preface  35 


that  process,  to  transform  some  portions  of 
early  Roman  history  back  into  the  poetry  out 
of  which  they  are  made,  is  the  object  of  this 
work. 

In  the  following  poems  the  author  speaks, 
not  in  his  own  person,  but  in  the  persons  of 
ancient  minstrels  who  know"  only  what  a  Roman 
citizen,  born  three  or  four  hundred  years  before 
the  Christian  era,  may  be  supposed  to  have 
known,  and  who  are  in  no  wise  above  the  pas- 
sions and  prejudices  of  their  age  and  nation. 
To  these  imaginary-  poets  must  be  ascribed  some 
blunders  which  are  so  obvious  that  it  is  un- 
necessary to  point  them  out.  The  real  blunder 
would  have  been  to  represent  these  old  poets  as 
deeply  versed  in  general  history",  and  studious 
of  chronological  accuracy.  To  them  must  also 
be  attributed  the  illiberal  sneers  at  the  Greeks, 
the  furious  party  spirit,  the  contempt  for  the 
arts  of  peace,  the  love  of  war  for  its  own  sake, 
the  ungenerous  exultation  over  the  vanquished, 
which  the  reader  will  sometimes  observe.  To 
portray  a  Roman  of  the  age  of  Camillus  or 
Curius  as  superior  to  national  antipathies,  as 


36  preface 


mourning  over  the  devastation  and  slaughter 
by  which  empire  and  triumphs  were  to  be  won, 
as  looking  down  on  human  suffering  with  the 
sympathy  of  Howard,  or  as  treating  conquered 
enemies  with  the  delicacy  of  the  Black  Prince, 
would  be  to  violate  all  dramatic  propriety. 
The  old  Romans  had  some  great  virtues,  forti- 
tude, temperance,  veracity,  spirit  to  resist  op- 
pression, respect  for  legitimate  authority,  fidel- 
ity in  the  observing  of  contracts,  disinterested- 
ness, ardent  patriotism  ;  but  Christian  charity 
and  chivalrous  generosity  were  alike  unknown 
to  them. 

It  would  have  been  obviously  improper  to 
mimic  the  manner  of  any  particular  age  or 
courttry.  Something  has  been  borrowed  how- 
ever, from  our  own  old  ballads,  and  more  from 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  the  great  restorer  of  our  bal- 
lad poetry.  To  the  Iliad  still  greater  obliga- 
tions are  due ;  and  those  obligations  have  been 
contracted  with  the  less  hesitation,  because 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  some  of  the  old 
Latin  minstrels  had  recourse  to  that  inexhaust- 
ible store  of  poetical  images. 


Ipreface 


37 


It  would  have  been  easy  to  swell  this  little 
volume  to  a  very  considerable  bulk,  by  append- 
ing notes  filled  with  quotations,  but  to  a  learned 
reader  such  notes  are  not  necessary  ;  for  an  un- 
learned reader  they  would  have  little  interest ; 
and  the  judgment  passed  both  by  the  learned 
and  by  the  unlearned  on  a  work  of  the  imagi- 
nation will  always  depend  much  more  on  the 
general  character  and  spirit  of  such  a  work  than 
on  minute  details. 


HORATIUS. 


HORATIUS. 


nPHERB  can  be  little  doubt  that  among  those 
■■■  parts  of  early  Roman  history  which  had 
a  poetical  origin  was  the  legend  of  Horatius 
Codes.  We  have  several  versions  of  the  story, 
and  these  versions  differ  from  each  other  in 
points  of  no  small  importance.  Polybius,  there 
is  reason  to  believe,  heard  the  tale  recited  over 
the  remains  of  some  consul  or  praetor  descend- 
ed from  the  old  Horatian  patricians  ;  for  he  in- 
troduces it  as  a  specimen  of  the  narratives  with 
w^hich  the  Romans  were  in  the  habit  of  embel- 
lishing their  funeral  oratory.  It  is  remarkable 
that,  according  to  him,  Horatius  defended  the 
bridge  alone,  and  perished  in  the  waters.  Ac^ 
cording    to    the    chronicles    which    Livy    and 


42  Xas0  of  ancient  IRome 


Dionysius  followed,  Horatius  had  two  com- 
panions, swam  safe  to  shore,  and  was  loaded 
with  honors  and  rewards. 

These  discrepancies  are  easily  explained. 
Our  own  literature,  indeed,  will  furnish  an 
exact  parallel  to  what  may  have  taken  place 
at  Rome.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the 
memory  of  the  war  of  Porsena  was  preserved 
by  compositions  much  resembling  the  two  bal- 
lads which  stand  first  in  the  Relics  of  Ancient 
English  Poetry.  In  both  those  ballads  the 
English,  commanded  by  the  Percy,  fight  with 
the  Scots,  commanded  by  the  Douglas.  In  one 
of  the  ballads  the  Douglas  is  killed  by  a  name- 
less English  archer,  and  the  Percy  by  a  Scottish 
spearman  ;  in  the  other,  the  Percy  slays  the 
Douglas  in  single  combat,  and  is  himself  made 
prisoner.  In  the  former.  Sir  Hugh  Mont- 
gomery is  shot  through  the  heart  by  a  North- 
umbrian bowman  ;  in  the  latter  he  is  taken, 
and  exchanged  for  the  Percy.  Yet  both  the 
ballads  relate  to  the  same  event,  and  that  an 
event  which  probably  took  place  within  the 
memory  of  persons  who  were  alive  when  both 


1boratiu5  43 


the  ballads  were  made.     One  of  the  minstrels 

says  : — 

"  Old  men  that  knowen  the  grounde  well  yenoughe 
Call  it  the  battell  of  Otterburn  : 
At  Otterburn  began  this  spurne 
Upon  a  monnyn  day. 
Ther  was  the  dougghte  Doglas  slean  : 
The  Perse  never  went  away." 

The    other  poet    sums    up    the   event  in    the 

following  lines  : — 

' '  Thys  fraye  bygan  at  Otterbome 
Bytwene  the  nyghte  and  the  day  : 
Ther  the  Dowglas  lost  hys  lyfe, 
And  the  Percy  was  lede  away." 

It  is  by  no  means  unlikely  that  there  were 
two  old  Roman  lays  about  the  defence  of  the 
bridge  ;  and  that,  while  the  story  which  Ivivy 
has  transmitted  to  us  was  preferred  by  the 
multitude,  the  other,  which  ascribed  the  whole 
glory  to  Horatius  alone,  may  have  been  the 
favorite  with  the  Horatian  house. 

The  following  ballad  is  supposed  to  have 
been  made  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  years 
after  the  war  which  it  celebrates,  and  just 
before  the  taking  of  Rome  by  the  Gauls.  The 
author  seems  to  have  been  an  honest  citizen, 


44  Xags  of  Hnctcnt  IRome 

proud  of  the  military  glory  of  his  country,  sick 
of  the  disputes  of  factions,  and  much  given  to 
pining  after  good  old  times  which  had  never 
really  existed.  The  allusion,  however,  to  the 
partial  manner  in  which  the  public  lands  were 
allotted  could  proceed  only  from  a  plebeian  ; 
and  the  allusion  to  the  fraudulent  sale  of  spoils 
marks  the  date  of  the  poem,  and  shows  that 
the  poet  shared  in  the  general  discontent  with 
which  the  proceedings  of  Camillus,  after  the 
taking  of  Veii,  were  regarded. 

The  penultimate  syllable  of  the  name  Porsena 
has  been  shortened  in  spite  of  the  authorit}'  of 
Niebuhr,  who  pronounces,  without  assigning 
any  ground  for  his  opinion,  that  Martial  was 
guilty  of  a  decided  blunder  in  the  line, — 

"  Hanc  spectare  manum  Porsena  non  potuit." 

It  is  not  easy  to  understand  how  any  modem 
scholar,  whatever  his  attainments  may  be, — and 
those  of  Niebuhr  were  undoubtedly  immense, — 
can  venture  to  pronounce  that  Martial  did  not 
know  the  quantity  of  a  word  which  he  must 
have  uttered  and  heard  uttered  a  hundred  times 


Iborattus  45 


before  he  left  school.  Niebuhr  seems  also  to 
have  forgotten  that  Martial  has  fellow-culprits 
to  keep  him  in  countenance.  Horace  has  com- 
mitted the  same  decided  blunder  ;  for  he  gives 
us,  as  a  pure  iambic  line, — 

"  Minacis  aut  Etrusca  Porsenae  manus." 

Silius  Italicus  has  repeatedly  offended  in  the 
same  way,  as  when  he  says, — 

"  Cernitur  effugiens  ardentem  Porsena  dextram  :  " 

and  again, — 

"  Clusinum  vulgus,  cum,  Porsena  magne,  jubebas." 

A  modern  writer  may  be  content  to  err  in  such 
company. 

Niebuhr's  supposition  that  each  of  the  three 
defenders  of  the  bridge  was  the  representative 
of  one  of  the  three  patrician  tribes  is  both  in- 
genious and  probable,  and  has  been  adopted  in 
the  following  poem. 


HORATIUS. 

A   IvAY   MADi^  ABOUT    THE    YKAR    OI^  THE  CITY 
CCCI.X. 


LARS  PORSBNA  of  Clusium 
By  the  Nine  Gods  he  swore 
That  the  great  house  of  Tarquin 
Should  sufier  wrong  no  more. 
By  the  Nine  Gods  he  swore  it, 

And  named  a  trysting  day, 
And  bade  his  messengers  ride  forth, 
East  and  west  and  south  and  north, 
To  summon  his  array. 


48  Xags  of  ancient  IRome 

II. 

East  and  west  and  south  and  north 

The  messengers  ride  fast, 
And  tower  and  town  and  cottage 

Have  heard  the  trumpet's  blast. 
Shame  on  the  false  Etruscan 

Who  lingers  in  his  home 
When  Porsena  of  Clusium 

Is  on  his  march  for  Rome. 

m. 

The  horsemen  and  the  footmen 

.  Are  pouring  in  amain, 

From  many  a  stately  market-place  ; 

From  many  a  fruitful  plain  ; 
From  many  a  lonely  hamlet, 

Which,  hid  by  beech  and  pine. 
Like  an  eagle's  nest,  hangs  on  the  crest 

Of  purple  Apennine  ; 

IV. 

From  lordly  Volaterrae, 

Where  scowls  the  far-famed  hold 
Piled  by  the  hands  of  giants 

For  godlike  kings  of  old  ; 
From  seagirt  Populonia, 

Whose  sentinels  descry- 


Iboratfue  49 


Sardinia's  snowy  mountain  tops 
Fringing  the  southern  sky  ; 


From  the  proud  mart  of  Pisae, 

Queen  of  the  western  waves. 
"Where  ride  Massilia's  triremes 

Heavy  with  fair-haired  slaves  ; 
From  where  sweet  Clanis  wanders 

Through  corn  and  vines  and  flowers  ; 
From  where  Cortona  lifts  to  heaven 

Her  diadem  of  towers. 


VI. 

Tall  are  the  oaks  whose  acorns 

Drop  in  dark  Auser's  rill; 
Fat  are  the  stags  that  champ  the  boughs 

Of  the  Ciminian  hill ; 
Beyond  all  streams  Clitumnus 

Is  to  the  herdsman  dear  ; 
Best  of  all  pools  the  fowler  loves 

The  great  Volsinian  mere. 

VII. 

But  now  no  stroke  of  woodman 
Is  heard  by  Auser's  rill ; 


50  Xa\2S  ot  Bncfent  IRomc 

No  hunter  tracks  the  stag's  green  path 

Up  the  Ciminian  hill ; 
Unwatched  along  Clitumnus 

Grazes  the  milk-white  steer ; 
Unharmed  the  water  fowl  may  dip 

In  the  Volsinian   mere. 


VIII, 

The  harvests  of  Arretium, 

This  year,  old  men  shall  reap ; 
This  year,  young  boys  in  Umbro 

Shall  plunge  the  struggling  sheep  ; 
And  in  the  vats  of  Luna, 

This  year,  the  must  shall  foam 
Round  the  white  feet  of  laughing  girls 

Whose  sires  have  marched  to  Rome. 


There  be  thirty  chosen  prophets, 

The  wisest  of  the  land. 
Who  always  by  Lars  Porsena 

Both  morn  and  evening  stand  : 
Evening  and  mom  the  Thirty 

Have  turned  the  verses  o'er. 
Traced  from  the  right  on  linen  white 

By  mighty  seers  of  yore. 


52  Xasa  ot  Bncient  IRome 


And  with  one  voice  the  Thirty 

Have  their  glad  answer  given  : 
"  Go  forth,  go  forth,  Lars  Porsena  ; 

Go  forth,  beloved  of  Heaven  ; 
Go,  and  return  in  glory 

To  Clusium's  royal  dome  ; 
And  hang  round  Nurscia's  altars 

The  golden  shields  of  Rome." 

XI. 

And  now  hath  every  city 

Sent  up  her  tale  of  men  ; 
The  foot  are  fourscore  thousand, 

The  horse  are  thousands  ten. 
Before  the  gates  of  Sutrium 

Is  met  the  great  array. 
A  proud  man  was  Lars  Porsena 

Upon  the  trysting  day. 


For  all  the  Etruscan  armies 
Were  ranged  beneath  his  eye. 

And  many  a  banished  Roman, 
And  many  a  stout  ally  ; 

And  with  a  mighty  following 
To  join  the  muster  came 


1boratiu6  53 


The  Tusculan  Mamilius, 
Prince  of  the  Latian  name. 

XIII. 

But  by  the  yellow  Tiber 

Was  tumult  and  affright : 
From  all  the  spacious  champaign 

To  Rome  men  took  their  flight. 
A  mile  around  the  city, 

The  throng  stopped  up  the  ways  ; 
A  fearful  sight  it  was  to  see 

Through  two  long  nights  and  days. 


For  aged  folks  on  crutches, 

And  women  great  with  child. 
And  mothers  sobbing  over  babes 

That  clung  to  them  and  smiled. 
And  sick  men  borne  in  litters 

High  on  the  necks  of  slaves, 
And  troops  of  sun-burned  husbandmen 

With  reaping-hooks  and  staves 

XV. 

And  droves  of  mules  and  asses 
Laden  with  skins  of  wine, 


54  Xai25  ot  Bncient  IRomc 


And  endless  flocks  of  goats  and  sheep, 

And  endless  herds  of  kine, 
And  endless  trains  of  wagons 

That  creaked  beneath  the  weight 
Of  corn-sacks  and  of  household  goods, 

Choked  every  roaring  gate. 


XVI. 

Now,  from  the  rock  Tarpeian, 

Could  the  wan  burghers  spy 
The  line  of  blazing  villages 

Red  in  the  midnight  sky. 

The  Fathers  of  the  City, 
They  sat  all  night  and  day, 
For  every  hour  some  horseman  came 

With  tidings  of  dismay. 

XVII. 

To  eastward  and  to  westw^ard 
Have  spread  the  Tuscan  bands  ; 


1borathi5  55 


Nor  house,  nor  fence,  nor  dovecot 
In  Crustumerium  stands. 

Verbenna  down  to  Ostia 
Hath,  wasted  all  the  plain  ; 

Astur  hath  stormed  Janiculum, 
And  the  stout  guards  are  slain. 


XVIII. 

I  wis,  in  all  the  Senate, 

There  was  no  heart  so  bold. 
But  sore  it  ached,  and  fast  it  beat, 

When  that  ill  news  was  told. 
Forthwith  up  rose  the  Consul, 

Up  rose  the  Fathers  all  ; 
In  haste  they  girded  up  their  gowns, 

And  hied  them  to  the  wall. 


XIX. 

They  held  a  council  standing 

Before  the  River-Gate  ; 
Short  time  was  there,  ye  well  may  guess, 

For  musing  or  debate. 
Out  spake  the  Consul  roundly  : 

"The  bridge  must  straight  go  down  ; 
For,  since  Janiculum  is  lost, 

Nought  else  can  save  the  town." 


56  3La\?6  of  Bncient  IRome 


Just  then  a  scout  came  flying, 

All  wild  with  haste  and  fear  : 
**  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  Sir  Consul  : 

Ivars  Porsena  is  here." 
On  the  low  hills  to  westward 

The  Consul  fixed  his  eye, 
And  saw  the  swarthy  storm  of  dust 

Rise  fast  along  the  sky. 

XXI. 

And  nearer  fast  and  nearer 

Doth  the  red  whirlwind  come  ; 
And  louder  still  and  still  more  loud, 
From  underneath  that  rolling  cloud, 
Is  heard  the  trumpet's  war-note  proud, 

The  trampling  and  the  hum. 
And  plainly  and  more  plainly 

Now  through  the  gloom  appears, 
Far  to  left  and  far  to  right. 
In  broken  gleams  of  dark-blue  light, 
The  long  array  of  helmets  bright, 

The  long  array  of  spears. 


And  plainly  and  more  plainly, 
Above  that  glimmering  line, 


Iboratius  57 


Now  might  ye  see  the  banners 

Of  twelve  fair  cities  shine  ; 
But  the  banner  of  proud  Clusium 

Was  highest  of  them  all, 
The  terror  of  the  Umbrian, 

The  terror  of  the  Gavd. 

XXIII. 

And  plainly  and  more  plainly 

Now  might  the  burghers  know, 
By  port  and  vest,  by  horse  and  crest, 

Bach  warlike  Lucumo. 
There  Cilnius  of  Arretium 

On  his  fleet  roan  was  seen  ; 
And  Astur  of  the  fourfold  shield. 
Girt  with  the  brand  none  else  may  wield, 
Tolumnius  with  the  belt  of  gold. 
And  dark  Verbenna  from  the  hold 

By  reedy  Thrasymene. 

XXIV. 

Fast  by  the  royal  standard, 

O'erlooking  all  the  war, 
Lars  Porsena  of  Clusium 

Sat  in  his  ivory  car. 
By  the  right  wheel  rode  Mamilius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name  ; 


sS  Xa^s  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


And  by  the  left  false  vSextus, 

That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame. 

XXV. 

But  when  the  face  of  Sextus 

Was  seen  among  the  foes, 
A  yell  that  rent  the  firmament 

From  all  the  town  arose. 
On  the  house-tops  was  no  woman 

But  spat  towards  him  and  hissed, 
No  child  but  screamed  out  curses, 

And  shook  its  little  fist. 

XXVI. 

But  the  Consul's  brow  was  sad, 

And  the  Consul's  speech  was  low, 
And  darkly  looked  he  at  the  wall, 

And  darkly  at  the  foe. 
"Their  van  will  be  upon  us 

Before  the  bridge  goes  down  ; 
And  if  they  once  may  win  the  bridge, 

What  hope  to  save  the  town  ?  " 

XXVII. 

Then  out  spake  brave  Horatius, 

The  Captain  of  the  Gate  : 
'  To  every  man  upon  this  earth 
Death  cometh  soon  or  late, 


1boratiu6 


59 


And  how  can  man  die  better 
Than  facing  fearful  odds, 

For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers, 
And  the  temples  of  his  Gods, 


"  And  for  the  tender  mother 

Who  dandled  him  to  rest, 
And  for  the  wife  who  nurses 

His  baby  at  her  breast. 
And  for  the  holy  maidens 

Who  feed  the  eternal  flame. 
To  save  them  from  false  Sextus 

That  wrougrht  the  deed  of  shame  ? 


6o 


JB)a^6  of  Bnclent  tf^ome 


XXIX. 

"  Hew  down  the  bridge,  vSir  Consul, 

With  all  the  speed  ye  may  ; 
I,  with  two  more  to  help  me, 

Will  hold  the  foe  in  play. 
In  yon  strait  path  a  thousand 

May  well  be  stopped  by  three. 
Now  who  will  stand  on  either  hand, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  me  ?  " 


\^\ 

M^ 

^nS> 

Sh^vi 

fVjup\^ 

wl 

Then  out  spake  Spurius  Lartius  ; 

A  Ramnian  proud  was  he  : 
"  Lo,  I  will  stand  at  thy  right  hand, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 
And  out  spake  strong  Herminius  ; 

Of  Titian  blood  was  he  : 
"  I  will  abide  on  thy  left  side. 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 


1boratiu6  6i 


XXXI. 

**  Horatius,"  quoth  the  Consul, 

**  As  thou  sayest,  so  let  it  be." 
And  straight  against  that  great  array 

Forth  went  the  dauntless  Three. 
For  Romans  in  Rome's  quarrel 

Spared  neither  land  nor  gold, 
Nor  son  nor  wife,  nor  limb  nor  life, 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 


XXXII. 

Then  none  was  for  a  party  ; 

Then  all  were  for  the  state  ; 
Then  the  great  man  helped  the  poor. 

And  the  poor  man  loved  the  great ; 
Then  lands  were  fairly  portioned  ; 

Then  spoils  were  fairly  sold  ; 
The  Romans  were  like  brothers 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 


XXXIII. 

Now  Roman  is  to  Roman 
More  hateful  than  a  foe, 

And  the  Tribunes  beard  the  high. 
And  the  Fathers  grind  the  low. 


62 


Xai20  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


As  we  wax  hot  in  faction, 

In  battle  we  wax  cold  ; 
Wherefore  men  fight  not  as  they  fought 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 


XXXIV. 

Now  while  the  Three  were  tightening 
Their  harness  on  their  backs, 

The  Consul  was  the  foremost  man 
To  take  in  hand  an  axe  ; 

And  Fathers  mixed  with  Commons, 
Seized  hatchet,  bar,  and  crow, 


Iboratius 


63 


And  smote  upon  the  planks  above, 
And  loosed  the  props  below. 


XXXV. 

Meanwhile  the  Tuscan  army, 

Right  glorious  to  behold, 
Came  flashing  back  the  noonday  light, 
Rank  behind  rank,  like  surges  bright 

Of  a  broad  sea  of  gold. 


Four  hundred  trumpets  sounded 

A  peal  of  warlike  glee. 
As  that  great  host,  with  measured  tread, 
And  spears  advanced,  and  ensigns  spread, 
Rolled  slowly  towards  the  bridge's  head, 

"SVhere  stood  the  dauntless  Three, 


64 


Xa\20  ot  Bncient  IRomc 


XXXVI. 

The  Three  stood  calm  -5 
and  silent,  ~ 

And  looked  upon  the 
foes, 

And  a  great  shout  of  laughter 
From  all  the  vanguard  rose  : 
And  forth  three  chiefs  came  spurring 

Before  that  deep  array  ; 
To  earth  they  sprang,  their  swords  they  drew 
And  lifted  high  their  shields,  and  flew 
To  win  the  narrow  way  ; 


"iboratfus  65 


Aunus  from  green  Tifernum, 

Lord  of  the  Hill  of  Vines  ; 
And  Seius,  whose  eight  hundred  slaves 

Sicken  in  Ilva's  mines  ; 
And  Picus,  long  to  Clusium 

Vassal  in  peace  and  war, 
Who  led  to  fight  his  Umbrian  powers 
From  that  gray  crag  where,  girt  with  towers, 
The  fortress  of  Nequinum  lowers 

O'er  the  pale  waves  of  Nar. 

XXXVIII. 

stout  Lartius  hurled  down  Aunus 

Into  the  stream  beneath  : 
Henninius  struck  at  Seius, 

And  clove  him  to  the  teeth  : 
At  Picus  brave  Horatius 

Darted  one  fiery  thrust ; 
And  the  proud  Umbrian 's  gilded  arms 

Clashed  in  the  bloody  dust. 

XXXIX. 


Then  Ocnus  of  Falerii 

Rushed  on  the  Roman  Three ; 
And  Lausulus  of  Urgo, 

The  Rover  of  the  sea  ; 


66  Xai^s  ot  Bncicnt  IRome 


And  Aruns  of  Volsinium, 

Who  slew  the  great  wild  boar, 
The  great  wild  boar  that  had  his  den 
Amidst  the  reeds  of  Cosa's  fen, 
And  wasted  fields,  and  slaughtered  men, 
Along  Albinia's  shore. 

XI,. 

Herminius  smote  down  Aruns  : 

Lartius  laid  Ocnus  low  : 
Right  to  the  heart  of  Lausulus 

Horatius  sent  a  blow. 
"  Ivie  there,"  he  cried,  "  fell  pirate  ! 

No  more,  aghast  and  pale. 
From  Ostia's  walls  the  crowd  shall  mark 
The  track  of  thy  destroying  bark. 
No  more  Campania's  hinds  shall  fly 
To  woods  and  caverns  when  they  spy 

Thy  thrice  accursed  sail. ' ' 

XI,I. 

But  now  no  sound  of  laughter 

Was  heard  among  the  foes. 
A  wild  and  wrathful  clamor 

From  all  the  vanguard  rose. 
Six  spears'  length  from  the  entrance 

Halted  that  deep  array. 
And  for  a  space  no  man  came  forth 

To  win  the  narrow  wav. 


fjoratfus  67 


But  hark  !  the  cr>^  is  Astur  : 

And  lo  !  the  ranks  divide  ; 
And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna 

Comes  with  his  stately  stride. 
Upon  his  ample  shoulders 

Clangs  loud  the  fourfold  shield, 
And  in  his  hand  he  shakes  the  brand 

Which  none  but  he  can  wield. 

XLIII. 

He  smiled  on  those  bold  Romans 

A  smile  serene  and  high  ; 
He  eyed  the  flinching  Tuscans, 

And  scorn  was  in  his  eye. 
Quoth  he:    '' The  she-wolf's  litter 

Stand  savagely  at  bay ; 
But  will  ye  dare  to  follow, 

If  Astur  clears  the  way  ?  " 

XI.IV. 

Then,  whirling  up  his  broadsword 
With  both  hands  to  the  height, 

He  rushed  against  Horatius, 
And  smote  with  all  his  might. 

With  shield  and  blade  Horatius 
Right  deftly  turned  the  blow. 

The  blow,  though  turned,  came  yet  too  nigh 

It  missed  his  helm,  but  gashed  his  thigh  : 


68  XaK6  of  Bncient  IRomc 


The  Tuscans  raised  a  joyful  cry- 
To  see  the  red  blood  flow. 

XLV. 

He  reeled,  and  on  Herminius 

He  leaned  one  breathing-space  ; 
Then,  like  a  wild  cat  mad  with  wounds, 

Sprang  right  at  Astur's  face. 
Through  teeth,  and  skull,  and  helmet 

So  fierce  a  thrust  he  sped. 
The  good  sword  stood  a  hand-breadth  out 

Behind  the  Tuscan's  head. 

XI.VI. 

And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna 

Fell  at  that  deadly  stroke 
As  falls  on  Mount  Alvernus 

A  thunder-smitten  oak. 
Far  o'er  the  crashing  forest 

The  giant  arms  lie  spread  ; 
And  the  pale  augurs,  nmttering  low, 

Gaze  on  the  blasted  head. 

XI.  VII. 

On  Astur's  throat  Horatius 
Right  firmly  pressed  his  heel. 

And  thrice  and  four  times  tugged  amain 
Bre  he  wrenched  out  the  steel. 


1boratiu9  69 


"And  see,"  he  cried,  "  the  welcome, 
Fair  guests,  that  waits  you  here  ! 

\\Tiat  noble  Lucumo  comes  next 
To  taste  our  Roman  cheer?  " 


But  at  this  haughty  challenge 

A  sullen  murmur  ran, 
Mingled  of  wrath,  and  shame,  and  dread. 

Along  that  glittering  van. 
There  lacked  not  men  of  prowess, 

Nor  men  of  lordly  race  ; 
For  all  Etruria's  noblest 

Were  round  the  fatal  place. 

XIvIX. 

But  all  Etruria's  noblest 

Felt  their  hearts  sink  to  see 
On  the  earth  the  bloody  corpses, 

In  the  path  the  dauntless  Three : 
And,  from  the  ghastly  entrance 

Where  those  bold  Romans  stood, 
All  shrank,  like  boys  who  unaware. 
Ranging  the  woods  to  start  a  hare. 
Come  to  the  mouth  of  the  dark  lair 
Where,  growling  low,  a  fierce  old  bear 

Ivies  amidst  bones  and  blood, 


70 


Xa)26  of  ancient  IRome 


I.. 


Was  none  who  would  be  foremost 

To  lead  such  dire  attack  : 
But  those  behind  cried  "  Forward  ! 

And  those  before  cried  "  Back  !  " 
And  backward  now  and  forward 

Wavers  the  deep  array  ; 
And  on  the  tossing  sea  of  steel, 
To  and  fro  the  standards  reel ; 
And  the  victorious  trumpet-peal 

Dies  fitfully  away. 


W. 


Yet  one  man  for  one  moment 
Stood  out  before  the  crowd  ; 

Well  known  was  he  to  all  the  Three, 
And  they  gave  him  greeting  loud  ; 


f)oratiu5  71 

"Now  welcome,  welcome  Sextus  ! 

Now  welcome  to  thy  home  ! 
^\'^ly  dost  thou  stay,  and  tmn  away  ? 

Here  lies  the  road  to  Rome." 

1.11. 

Thrice  looked  he  at  the  city  ; 

Thrice  looked  he  at  the  dead  ; 
And  thrice  came  on  in  fury, 

And  thrice  turned  back  in  dread  : 
And,  white  with  fear  and  hatred, 

Scowled  at  the  narrow  way 
Where,  wallowing  in  a  pool  of  blood. 

The  bravest  Tuscans  lay. 

1,111. 

But  meanwhile  axe  and  lever 

Have  manfully  been  plied  ; 
And  now  the  bridge  hangs  tottering 

Above  the  boiling  tide. 
"  Come  back,  come  back,  Horatius  !  " 

Loud  cried  the  Fathers  all. 
' '  Back,  Lartius  !  back,  Herminius  ! 

Back,  ere  the  ruin  fall  !  " 

1,1V. 

Back  darted  Spurius  Lartius  ; 
Herminius  darted  back  : 


Xa^5  ot  Bncicnt  IRome 


And,  as  they  passed,  beneath  their  feet 
They  felt  the  timbers  crack. 

But  when  they  turned  their  faces, 
And  on  the  farther  shore 

Saw  brave  Iloratius  stand  alone, 

They  would  have  crossed  once  more. 

i,v. 

But  with  a  crash  like  thunder 

Fell  every  loosened  beam, 
And,  like  a  dam,  the  mighty  wreck 

Lay  right  athwart  the  stream  : 
And  a  long  shout  of  triumph 

Rose  from  the  walls  of  Rome, 
As  to  the  highest  turret-tops 

Was  splashed  the  yellow  foam. 

I,VI. 

And,  like  a  horse  unbroken 

When  first  he  feels  the  rein. 
The  furious  river  struggled  hard, 

And  tossed  his  tawny  mane, 
And  burst  the  curb,  and  bounded, 

Rejoicing  to  be  free, 
And  whirling  down,  in  fierce  career, 
Battlement,  and  plank,  and  pier, 

Rushed  headlong  to  the  sea. 


1boratfu6  73 


Alone  stood  brave  Horatius, 

But  constant  still  in  mind  ; 
Thrice  thirty  thousand  foes  before, 

And  the  broad  flood  behind. 
' '  Down  with  him  ! ' '  cried  false  Sextus, 

With  a  smile  on  his  pale  face. 
"  Now  yield  thee,"  cried  Lars  Porsena, 

"  Now  yield  thee  to  our  grace." 

LVIII. 

Round  turned  he,  as  not  deigning 

Those  craven  ranks  to  see  ; 
Nought  spake  he  to  Lars  Porsena, 

To  Sextus  nought  spake  he  ; 
But  he  saw  on  Palatinus 

The  white  porch  of  his  home  ; 
And  he  spake  to  the  noble  river 

That  rolls  by  the  towers  of  Rome  : 

"  O,  Tiber  !  father  Tiber  ! 

To  whom  the  Romans  pray, 
A  Roman's  life,  a  Roman's  arms, 

Take  thou  in  charge  this  day  !  " 
So  he  spake,  and  speaking  sheathed 

The  good  sword  by  his  side, 
And  with  his  harness  on  his  back. 

Plunged  headlong  in  the  tide. 


/'l.i%C3 


:~^fe- 


l)oratfus  75 


No  sound  of  joy  or  sorrow 

Was  heard  from  either  bank  : 
But  friends  and  foes  in  dumb  surprise, 
With  parted  lips  and  straining  eyes, 

Stood  gazing  where  he  sank  ; 
And  when  above  the  surges 

They  saw  his  crest  appear, 
All  Rome  sent  forth  a  rapturous  cry. 
And  even  the  ranks  of  Tuscany 

Could  scarce  forbear  to  cheer. 

LXI. 

But  fiercely  ran  the  current, 

Swollen  high  by  months  of  rain  ; 
And  fast  his  blood  was  flowing  ; 

And  he  was  sore  in  pain. 
And  heavy  with  his  armor, 

And  spent  with  changing  blows  : 
And  oft  they  thought  him  sinking, 

But  still  again  he  rose. 

i,xn. 

Never,  I  ween,  did  swimmer. 

In  such  an  e\41  case. 
Struggle  through  such  a  raging  flood 

Safe  to  the  landing  place  : 
But  his  limbs  were  borne  up  bravely 

By  the  brave  heart  within, 


76  Xag6  of  Bncicnt  IRomc 


And  our  good  father  Tiber 
Bore  bravely  up  his  chin.* 

LXIII. 
"  Curse  on  him  !  "  quoth  false  Sextus  ; 

"  Will  not  the  villain  drown  ? 
But  for  this  stay,  ere  close  of  day 

We  should  have  sacked  the  town  !  ' ' 
"  Heaven  help  him  !  "  quoth  Lars  Porsena, 

"  And  bring  him  safe  to  shore  ; 
For  such  a  gallant  feat  of  arms 

Was  never  seen  before." 

I.XIV. 

And  now  he  feels  the  bottom  ; 

Now  on  dry  earth  he  stands  ; 
Now  round  him  throng  the  Fathers 

To  press  his  gory  hands  ; 
And  now,  with  shouts  and  clapping, 

And  noise  of  weeping  loud. 
He  enters  through  the  River-Gate, 

Borne  by  the  joyous  crowd. 

"  Our  ladye  bare  upp  her  chinne." 

Ballad  of  Childe  Waters. 

•  <  Never  heavier  man  and  horse 
Stemmed  a  midnight  torrent's  force  ; 
****** 
Yet,  through  good  heart  and  our  Lady's  grace, 
At  length  he  gained  the  landing  place." 

Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  I. 


1borattu0 


IvXV. 

They  gave  him  of  the  corn-land, 

That  was  of  pubhc  right, 
As  much  as  two  strong  oxen 

Could  plough  from  morn  till  night ; 
And  they  made  a  molten  image, 

And  set  it  up  on  high. 
And  there  it  stands  unto  this  day 

To  witness  if  I  lie. 

I^XVI. 

It  stands  in  the  Comitium, 

Plain  for  all  folk  to  see  ; 
Horatius  in  his  harness. 

Halting  upon  one  knee  : 
And  underneath  is  written, 

In  letters  all  of  gold, 
How  valiantly  he  kept  the  bridge 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

I.XVII. 

And  still  his  name  sounds  stirring 

Unto  the  men  of  Rome, 
As  the  trumpet-blast  that  cries  to  them 

To  charge  the  Volscian  home  ; 
And  wives  still  pray  to  Juno 

For  bovs  with  hearts  as  bold 


78  Xai2S  of  Bncicnt  IRome 

As  his  who  kept  the  bridge  so  well 
In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

I.XVIII. 

And  in  the  nights  of  winter, 

When  the  cold  north  winds  blow, 
And  the  long  howling  of  the  wolves 

Is  heard  amidst  the  snow  ; 
When  round  the  lonely  cottage 

Roars  loud  the  tempest's  din, 
And  the  good  logs  of  Algidus 

Roar  louder  yet  within  ; 

I.XIX. 

When  the  oldest  cask  is  opened. 

And  the  largest  lamp  is  lit ; 
When  the  chestnuts  glow  in  the  embers, 

And  the  kid  turns  on  the  spit ; 
When  young  and  old  in  circle 

Around  the  firebrands  close  ; 
When  the  girls  are  weaving  baskets. 

And  the  lads  are  shaping  bows  ; 

I.XX. 

When  the  goodman  mends  his  armor, 
And  trims  his  helmet's  plume  ; 


Iboratius 


79 


When  the  goodwife's  shuttle  merrily 
Goes  flashing  though  the  loom  ; 
With  weeping  and  with 

laughter  ^ 

//         Still    is    the     story 
told, 
How     well     Horati 

kept  the  bridge      /lU/j 
.^      In  the  brave  days  of 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 


THE  following  poem  is  supposed  to  have 
beeti  produced  about  ninety  years  after 
the  lay  of  Horatius.  Some  persons  mentioned 
in  the  lay  of  Horatius  make  their  appearance 
again,  and  some  appellations  and  epithets  used 
in  the  lay  of  Horatius  are  purposely  repeated  : 
for,  in  an  age  of  ballad  poetry,  it  scarcely  ever 
fails  to  happen  that  certain  phrases  come  to  be 
appropriated  to  certain  men  and  things,  and  are 
regularly  applied  to  those  men  and  things  by 
every  minstrel.  Thus  we  find,  both  in  the 
Homeric  poems  and  in  Hesiod,  (iiri  'HpaKXjjEirj, 
TtEpiuXvToi  'A/LiquyvTJeiS,  didKTopo<i  ""Apyei- 
cpovrrfi,  eTtraTtvXoi  Qrjfj?],  'EA.Evr/'s  evek  tjvho- 
l-ioio.  Thus,  too,  in  our  own  national  songs, 
Douglas  is  almost  always  the  doughty  Douglas  ; 


84  Xa^9  ot  Bncicnt  IRome 


England  is  merry  England  ;  all  the  gold  is  red  ; 
and  all  the  ladies  are  gay. 

The  principal  distinction  between  the  lay  of 
Horatius  and  the  lay  of  the  Lake  Regillus  is 
that  the  former  is  meant  to  be  purely  Roman, 
while  the  latter,  though  national  in  its  spirit,  has 
a  slight  tincture  of  Greek  learning  and  of  Greek 
superstition.  The  story  of  the  Tarquins,  as  it 
has  come  down  to  us,  appears  to  have  been 
compiled  from  the  works  of  several  popular 
poets ;  and  one,  at  least,  of  those  poets  appears 
to  have  visited  the  Greek  colonies  in  Italy,  if 
not  Greece  itself,  and  to  have  had  some  ac- 
quaintance with  the  works  of  Homer  and  Her- 
odotus. Many  of  the  most  striking  adventures 
of  the  house  of  Tarquin,  before  Lucretia  makes 
her  appearance,  have  a  Greek  character.  The 
Tarquins  themselves  are  represented  as  Cor- 
inthian nobles  of  the  great  house  of  the  Bacchi- 
adae,  driven  from  their  country  by  the  tyranny 
of  that  Cypselus,  the  tale  of  whose  strange 
escape  Herodotus  has  related  with  incompa- 
rable   simplicity    and    liveliness."^     Ivivy    and 

*  Herodotus,  v.,  92.     Livy,  i.,  34.    Dionysius,  iii.,  46. 


Zbc  :©attle  of  tbe  aLa^^e  IRcgIIIus    85 


Dionysius  tell  us  that,  when  Tarquin  the  Proud 
was  asked  what  was  the  best  mode  of  governing 
a  conquered  city,  he  replied  only  by  beating 
down  with  his  staff  all  the  tallest  poppies  in  his 
garden.*  This  is  exactly  what  Herodotus,  in 
the  passage  to  which  reference  has  already  been 


made,  relates  of  the  counsel  given  to  Periander, 
the  son  of  Cypselus,  The  stratagem  by  which 
the  town  of  Gabii  is  brought  under  the  power 
of  the  Tarquins  is,  again,  obviously  copied  from 
Herodotus,  t     The  embassy  of  the  young  Tar- 


*  Ltvy,  i.,54. 
t  Herodotus, 


Dionysius,  iv.,  56. 
i.,  154.    Livy,  X.,  53. 


86 


Xa^0  ot  Bncfcnt  TRome 


quins  to  the  oracle  at  Delphi  is  just  such  a  story 
as  would  be  told  by  a  poet  whose  head  was  full 
of  the  Greek  mythology  ;  and  the  ambiguous 
answer  returned  by  Apollo  is  in  the  exact  style 
of  the  prophecies  which,  according  to  Herod- 
otus,  lured  Croesus  to  destruction.     Then  the 


character  of  the  narrative  changes.  From  the 
first  mention  of  Lucretia  to  the  retreat  of  Por- 
sena  nothing  seems  to  be  borrowed  from  foreign 
sources.  The  villainy  of  Sextus,  the  suicide  of 
his  \'ictim,  the  revolution,  the  death  of  the  sons 
of  Brutus,  the  defence  of  the  bridge,  Mucius 


trbe  ^Battle  of  tbe  Xahe  IRegfUus    S7 

burning  his  hand,*  Cloelia  swimming  through 
Tiber,  seem  to  be  all  strictly  Roman,  But  when 
we  have  done  with  the  Tuscan  war,  and  enter 
upon  the  war  with  the  Latin es,  we  are  again 
struck  by  the  Greek  air  of  the  stor}^  The  bat- 
tle of  the  Lake    Regillus   is  in  all  respects  a 


Homeric  battle,  except  that  the  combatants  ride 
astride  on  their  horses,  instead  of  driving  chari- 
ots. The  mass  of  fighting  men  is  hardly  men- 
tioned.    The  leaders  single  each  other  out,  and 

*  M.  de  Pouilly  attempted,  a  hundred  and  twenty  years 
ago,  to  prove  that  the  stor>'  of  Mucius  was  of  Greek 
origin  ;  but  he  was  signally  confuted  by  the  Abbe  Sallier. 
Seethe  Memoires  de  V Academie  des  Inscriptions,  vi.,  27, 
66, 


88 


Xai^s  of  Bncient  IRome 


engage  hand  to  hand.  The  great  object  of  the 
warriors  on  both  sides  is,  as  in  the  Iliad,  to  ob- 
tain possession  of  the  spoils  and  bodies  of  the 
slain  ;  and  several  circumstances  are  related 
which  forcibly  remind  us  of  the  great  slaughter 
round  the  corpses  of  Sarpedou  and  Patroclus. 


But  there  is  one  circumstance  which  deserves 
especial  notice.  Both  the  war  of  Troy  and  the 
war  of  Regillus  were  caused  by  the  licentious 
passions  of  young  princes,  who  were  therefore 
peculiarly  bound  not  to  be  sparing  of  their  own 
persons  in  the  day  of  battle.  Now  the  conduct 
of  Sextus  at  Regillus,  as  described  by  Livy,  so 


Zbe  JBattle  of  tbe  Xa^c  IRegfllus    89 

exactly  resembles  that  of  Paris,  as  described  at 
the  beginning  of  the  third  book  of  the  Iliad, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  believe  the  resemblance 
accidental.  Paris  appears  before  the  Trojan 
ranks,  defying  the  bravest  Greek  to  encounter 
him  : — 

Tpojcrlv  ixev  npofj.a.\L^ev  'AXe'^ai'Spo?  deoetSfj?, 
.      .     .     W-pyeiuiv  TrpoKaki^ero  ndvTa<;  apia-Tov<;, 
oLvri^Lov  iJLaxecraa9at.  ev  alvjj  StjIot^ti. 

Livy  introduces  Sextus  in  a  similar  manner: 
"  Ferocem  juvenem  Tarquinium,  ostentantem 
se  in  prima  exsulum  acie."  Menelaus  rashes 
to  meet  Paris.  A  Roman  noble,  eager  for 
vengeance,  spurs  his  horse  towards  Sextus. 
Both  the  guilty  princes  are  instantly  terror- 
stricken  : — 

Tbi*  5'  tbs  o5v  ei'orjaev  'AXe'^avSpos  0eoet6r)s 

ef  7rpo/x(x;(ot<ri  <f)avevTa,  KarenXriyr)  (f)i\ov  riTop' 

ai|/  S'  eTdpuiV  et?  e9vo<;  exd^eTO  Krjp'  aXeeiPOiV. 

"Tarquinius,"  says  I^ivy,  "retro  in  agmen 
suoruni  infenso  cessit  hosti."  If  this  be  a 
fortuitous  coincidence,  it  is  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  in  literature. 

In  the  following  poem,  therefore,  images  and 


Qo  Xav6  of  Bncient  IRome 


incidents  have  been  borrowed,  not  merely  with- 
out scruple,  but  on  principle,  from  the  incom- 
parable battle-pieces  of  Homer. 

The  popular  belief  at  Rome,  from  an  early 
period,  seems  to  have  been  that  the  event  of 
the  great  day  of  Regillus  was  decided  by  super- 
natural agency.  Castor  and  Pollux,  it  was  said, 
had  fought,  armed  and  mounted,  at  the  head  of 
the  legions  of  the  commonwealth,  and  had 
afterwards  carried  the  news  of  the  victory  with 
incredible  speed  to  the  city.  The  well  in  the 
Forum  at  which  they  had  alighted  was  pointed 
out.  Near  the  well  rose  their  ancient  temple. 
A  great  festival  was  kept  to  their  honor  on  the 
Ides  of  Quintilis,  supposed  to  be  the  anniversary- 
of  the  battle;  and  on  that  day  sumptuous  sacri- 
fices were  offered  to  them  at  the  public  charge. 
One  spot  on  the  margin  of  Lake  Regillus  was 
regarded  during  many  ages  with  superstitious 
awe.  A  mark,  resembling  in  shape  a  horse's 
hoof,  was  discernible  in  the  volcanic  rock  ;  and 
this  mark  was  believed  to  have  been  made  by 
one  of  the  celestial  chargers. 

How  the  legend  originated  cannot   now  be 


^be  JBattle  of  tbe  Xake  IReaillus     91 


ascertained  :  but  we  may  easily  imagine  several 
ways  in  which  it  might  have  originated  ;  nor  is 
it  at  all  necessary  to  suppose,  with  Julius  Fron- 
tinus,  that  two  young  men  were  dressed  up  by 
the  dictator  to  personate  the  sons  of  Leda.  It 
is  probable  that  Livy  is  correct  when  he  says 
that  the  Roman  general,  in  the  hour  of  peril, 
vowed  a  temple  to  Castor.  If  so,  nothing  could 
be  more  natural  than  that  the  multitude  should 
ascribe  the  victory  to  the  favor  of  the  Twin 
Gods.  When  such  was  the  prevailing  senti- 
ment, any  man  who  chose  to  declare  that,  in 
the  midst  of  the  confusion  and  slaughter,  he 
had  seen  two  godlike  forms  on  white  horses 
scattering  the  Ivatines,  would  find  ready  cre- 
dence. We  know,  indeed,  that,  in  modem 
times,  a  very  similar  story  actually  found  cre- 
dence among  a  people  much  more  civilized  than 
the  Romans  of  the  fifth  century  before  Christ. 
A  chaplain  of  Cortes,  writing  about  thirty  years 
after  the  conquest  of  Mexico,  in  an  age  of 
printing  presses,  libraries,  universities,  scholars, 
logicians,  jurists,  and  statesmen,  had  the  face 
to  assert  that,  in  one  engagement  against  the 


92  Xai20  of  Bncfcnt  IRome 


Indians,  Saint  James  had  appeared  on  a  gray 
horse  at  the  head  of  the  Castilian  adventurers. 
Many  of  those  adventurers  were  living  when 
this  lie  was  printed.  One  of  them,  honest 
Bernal  Diaz,  wrote  an  account  of  the  expedi- 
tion. He  had  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses 
against  the  legend  ;  but  he  seems  to  have  dis- 
trusted even  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses. 
He  says  that  he  was  in  the  battle,  and  that  he 
saw  a  gray  horse  with  a  man  on  his  back,  but 
that  the  man  was,  to  his  thinking,  Francesco 
de  Morla,  and  not  the  ever-blessed  apostle  Saint 
James.  "  Nevertheless,"  Bernal  adds,  "it  may 
be  that  the  person  on  the  gray  horse  was  the 
glorious  apostle  Saint  James,  and  that  I,  sinner 
that  I  am,  was  unworthy  to  see  him."  The 
Romans  of  the  age  of  Cincinnatus  were  prob- 
ably quite  as  credulous  as  the  Spanish  subjects 
of  Charles  the  Fifth.  It  is  therefore  conceivable 
that  the  appearance  of  Castor  and  Pollux  may 
have  become  an  article  of  faith  before  the 
generation  which  had  fought  at  Regillus  had 
passed  away.  Nor  could  any  thing  be  more 
natural   than    that  the   poets  of  the  next  age 


Cbe  JBattlc  ot  tbc  Xake  IRegillus    93 

should  embellish  this  story,  and  make  the 
celestial  horsemen  bear  the  tidings  of  victory 
to  Rome. 

Many  years  after  the  temple  of  the  Twin 
Gods  had  been  built  in  the  Forum,  an  im- 
portant addition  was  made  to  the  ceremonial 
by  which  the  state  annually  testified  its  grati- 
tude for  their  protection.  Ouintus  Fabius  and 
Publius  Decius  were  elected  censors  at  a  momen- 
tous crisis.  It  had  become  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  the  classification  of  the  citizens 
should  be  revised.  On  that  classification  de- 
pended the  distribution  of  political  power. 
Party-spirit  ran  high  ;  and  the  republic  seemed 
to  be  in  danger  of  falling  under  the  dominion 
either  of  a  narrow  oligarchy  or  of  an  ignorant 
and  headstrong  rabble.  Under  such  circum- 
stances, the  most  illustrious  patrician  and  the 
most  illustrious  plebeian  of  the  age  were  in- 
trusted with  the  office  of  arbitrating  between 
the  angry  factions  ;  and  they  performed  their 
arduous  task  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  honest 
and  reasonable  men. 

One  of  their  reforms  was  a  remodelling  of  the 


94  Xa^0  of  Bncient  IRome 


equestrian  order  ;  and,  having  effected  this  re- 
form, they  determined  to  give  to  their  work  a 
sanction  derived  from  religion.  In  the  chival- 
rous societies  of  modern  times,  societies  which 
have  much  more  than  may  at  first  sight  appear 
in  common  with  the  equestrian  order  of  Rome, 
it  has  been  usual  to  invoke  the  special  protec- 
tion of  some  saint,  and  to  observ^e  his  day  with 
peculiar  solemnity.  Thus  the  Companions  of 
the  Garter  wear  the  image  of  Saint  George  de- 
pending from  their  collars,  and  meet,  on  great 
occasions,  in  Saint  George's  Chapel.  Thus, 
when  Louis  the  Fourteenth  instituted  a  new 
order  of  chivalry  for  the  rewarding  of  military' 
merit,  he  commended  it  to  the  favor  of  his  own 
glorified  ancestor  and  patron,  and  decreed  that 
all  the  members  of  the  fraternity  should  meet 
at  the  royal  palace  on  the  feast  of  Saint  Louis, 
should  attend  the  king  to  chapel,  should  hear 
mass,  and  should  subsequently  hold  their  great 
annual  assembly.  There  is  a  considerable  re- 
semblance between  this  rule  of  the  order  of 
Saint  Louis  and  the  rule  which  Fabius  and 
Decius  made  respecting   the  Roman   knights. 


^be  :©attlc  of  tbc  Xahc  TRcgtllus    95 

It  was  ordained  that  a  grand  muster  and  in- 
spection of  the  equestrian  body  should  be  part 
of  the  ceremonial  performed,  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  battle  of  Regillus,  in  honor  of  Castor  and 
Pollux,  the  two  equestrian  gods.  All  the 
knights,  clad  in  purple  and  crowned  with  olive, 
were  to  meet  at  a  temple  of  Mars  in  the  sub- 
urbs. Thence  they  were  to  ride  in  state  to  the 
Forum,  where  the  temple  of  the  Twins  stood. 
This  pageant  was,  during  several  centuries, 
considered  as  one  of  the  most  splendid  sights  of 
Rome.  In  the  time  of  Dionysius  the  cavalcade 
sometimes  consisted  of  five  thousand  horsemen, 
all  persons  of  fair  repute  and  easy  fortune.'^ 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  censors  who 
instituted  this  august  ceremony  acted  in  con- 
cert with  the  pontiffs  to  whom,  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  Rome,  the  superintendence  of  the  public 
worship  belonged  ;  and  it  is  probable  that  those 
high  religious  functionaries  were,  as  usual,  for- 

*  See  Zz'z/jv,  ix.,  46.  Val.  Max.,  ii.,  2.  AureL,  Vict.  De 
Viris  lUustribus,  32.  Dionysius,  vi.,  13.  Plin.,  Hist. 
Nat.,-s.\.,  5.  See  also  the  singularly  ingenious  chapter 
in  Niebuhr's  posthumous  volume,  Die  Censur  des  Q. 
Fabius  und  P.  Decius, 


96  Xai^s  ot  Bnclcnt  IRome 


tunate  enough  to  find  in  their   books  or  tra- 
ditions some  warrant  for  the  innovation. 

The  following  poem  is  supposed  to  have  been 
made  for  this  great  occasion.  Songs,  we  know, 
were  chanted  at  the  religious  festivals  of  Rome 
from  an  early  period  ;  indeed,  from  so  early  a 
period,  that  some  of  the  sacred  verses  were 
popularly  ascribed  to  Numa,  and  were  utterly 
unintelligible  in  the  age  of  Augustus.  In  the 
Second  Punic  War  a  great  feast  was  held  in 
honor  of  Juno,  and  a  song  was  sung  in  her 
praise.  This  song  was  extant  when  Livy  wrote  ; 
and,  though  exceedingly  rugged  and  uncouth, 
seemed  to  him  not  wholly  destitute  of  merit.* 
A  song,  as  we  learn  from  Horace,  f  was  part  of 
the  established  ritual  at  the  great  Secular  Jubi- 
lee. It  is  therefore  likely  that  the  censors  and 
pontiffs,  when  they  had  resolved  to  add  a  grand 
procession  of  knights  to  the  other  solemnities 
annually  performed  on  the  Ides  of  Quintilis, 
would  call  in  the  aid  of  a  poet.  Such  a  poet 
would  naturally  take  for  his  subject  the  battle 
of  Regillus,  the  appearance  of  the  Twin  Gods, 
*  Livy^  xxvii.,  37.        t  Hor.,  Carmen  Seculare. 


Zbc  :©attlc  of  tbc  XaF?c  IReciiHus    97 

and  the  institution  of  their  festival.  He  would 
find  abundant  materials  in  the  ballads  of  his 
predecessors  ;  and  he  would  make  free  use  of 
the  scanty  stock  of  Greek  learning  which  he 
had  himself  acquired.  He  would  probably  in- 
troduce some  wnse  and  holy  pontiff  enjoining 
the  magnificent  ceremonial  which,  after  a  long 
interval,  had  at  length  been  adopted.  If  the 
poem  succeeded,  many  persons  w-ould  commit 
it  to  memory-.  Parts  of  it  would  be  sung  to  the 
pipe  at  banquets.  It  would  be  peculiarly  inter- 
esting to  the  great  Posthumian  House,  which 
numbered  among  its  many  images  that  of  the 
Dictator  Aulus,  the  hero  of  Regillus.  The 
orator  who,  in  the  following  generation,  pro- 
nounced the  funeral  panegyric  over  the  remains 
of  Lucius  Posthumius  Megellus,  thrice  consul, 
would  borrow  largely  from  the  lay  ;  and  thus 
some  passages,  much  disfigured,  would  probably 
find  their  way  into  the  chronicles  which  were 
afterwards  in  the  hands  of  Dionysius  and  Liivy. 
Antiquaries  difi"er  widely  as  to  the  situation 
of  the  field  of  battle.  The  opinion  of  those  who 
suppose  that   the  armies  met  near  Cornufelle, 


98 


Xa^s  of  Bncient  IRome 


between  Frascati  and  the  Monte  Porzio,  is  at 
least  plausible,  and  has  been  followed  in  the 
poem. 

As  to  the  details  of  the  battle,  it  has  not  been 
thought  desirable  to  adhere  minutely  to  the  ac- 
counts which  have  come  down  to  us.  Those 
accounts,  indeed,  differ  widely  from  each  other, 
and,  in  all  probability,  differ  as  widely  from 
the  ancient  poem  from  which  they  were  origi- 
nally derived. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  point  out  the  obvious  imi- 
tations of  the  Iliad,  which  have  been  purposely 
introduced. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  LAKE  REGILLUS. 

A    LAY  SUNG  AT  THE  FEAST    OF  CASTOR  AND 

POLLUX  ON  THE  IDES  OF  OUINTILIS  IN 

THE  YEAR  OF  THE  CITY  DCCCLL 


HO,  trumpets,  sound  a  war-note  ! 
Ho,  lictors,  clear  the  way  ! 
The  Knights  will  ride,  in  all  their  pride, 

Along  the  streets  to-day. 
To-day  the  doors  and  windows 

Are  hung  with  garlands  all. 
From  Castor  in  the  Forum, 

To  Mars  without  the  wall. 
Each  Knight  is  robed  in  purple, 

With  olive  each  is  crowned  ; 
A  gallant  war-horse  under  each 

Paws  haughtily  the  ground. 
While  flows  the  Yellow  River, 

While  stands  the  Sacred  Hill, 
The  proud  Ides  of  Quintilis 

Shall  have  such  honor  still. 


Xai20  ot  Bncient  IRome 


Gay  are  the  Martian  Kalends  : 

December's  Nones  are  gay  : 
But  the  proud  Ides,  when  the  squadron  rides, 

Shall  be  Rome's  whitest  day. 
II. 
Unto  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

We  keep  this  solemn  feast. 
Swift,  swift,  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Came  spurring  from  the  east. 
They  came  o'er  wild  Parthenius 

Tossing  in  waves  of  pine, 
O'er  Cirrha's  dome,  o'er  Adria's  foam. 

O'er  purple  Apennine, 
From  where  with  flutes  and  dances 

Their  ancient  mansion  rings, 
In  lordly  Lacedaemon, 

The  city  of  two  kings, 
To  where,  by  Lake  Regillus, 

Under  the  Porcian  height. 
All  in  the  lands  of  Tusculum, 

Was  fought  the  glorious  fight. 

III. 
Now  on  the  place  of  slaughter 

Are  cots  and  sheepfolds  seen. 
And  rows  of  vines,  and  fields  of  wheat, 

And  apple-orchards  green  : 
The  swine  crush  the  big  acorns 

That  fall  from  Corne's  oaks. 


^bc  JSattle  of  tbe  Xafte  IReaillus  loi 


upon  the  turf  by  the  Fair  Fount 

The  reaper's  pottage  smokes. 
The  fisher  baits  his  angle  ; 

The  hunter  twangs  his  bow  ; 
Little  they  think  on  those  strong  limbs 

That  moulder  deep  below. 
Little  they  think  how  sternly 

That  day  the  trumpets  pealed  ; 
How  in  the  slippery  swamp  of  blood 

Warrior  and  war-horse  reeled  ; 
How  wolves  came  with  fierce  gallop, 

And  crows  on  eager  wings, 
To  tear  the  flesh  of  captains, 

And  peck  the  eyes  of  kings  ; 
How  thick  the  dead  lay  scattered 

Under  the  Porcian  height ; 
How  through  the  gates  of  Tusculum 

Raved  the  wild  stream  of  flight ; 
And  how  the  Lake  Regillus 

Bubbled  with  crimson  foam, 
What  time  the  Thirty  Cities 

Came  forth  to  war  with  Rome. 

IV. 

But,  Roman,  when  thou  standest 

Upon  that  holy  ground, 
Look  thou  with  heed  on  the  dark  rock 

That  girds  the  dark  lake  round, 


Xa^6  of  IDncicnt  TRome 


So  shalt  thou  see  a  hoof-mark 

Stamped  deep  into  the  flint ; 
It  was  no  hoof  of  mortal  steed 

That  made  so  strange  a  dint : 
There  to  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Vow  thou  thy  vow's,  and  pray- 
That  they,  in  tempest  and  in  fight, 

Will  keep  thy  head  alway. 

V. 

Since  last  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Of  mortal  eyes  were  seen, 
Have  years  gone  by  an  hundred 

And  fourscore  and  thirteen. 
That  summer  a  Virginius 

Was  Consul  first  in  place  ; 
The  second  was  stout  Aulus, 

Of  the  Posthumian  race. 
The  Herald  of  the  Latines 

From  Gabii  came  in  state  : 
The  Herald  of  the  Latines 

Passed  through  Rome's  Eastern  Gate 
The  Herald  of  the  I^atines 

Did  in  our  Forum  stand  ; 
And  there  he  did  his  office, 

A  sceptre  in  his  hand. 


'Hear,  Senators  and  people 
Of  the  good  town  of  Rome. 


[04 


Xass  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


The  Thirty  Cities  charge  you 
To  bring  the  Tarquins  home  : 

And  if  ye  still  be  stubborn, 
To  work  the  Tarquins  wrong, 

The  Thirty  Cities  warn  you, 

Ivook  that  your  w^alls  be  strong." 


VII. 


Then  spake  the  Consul  Aulus, 

He  spake  a  bitter  jest : 
"  Once  the  jays  sent  a  message 

Unto  the  eagle's  nest : 
Now  yield  thou  up  thine  eyrie 

Unto  the  carrion-kite. 
Or  come  forth  valiantly,  and  face 

The  jays  in  deadly  fight. 


Zbc  :fiSattlc  of  tbc  Xafie  IRegillus  105 


Forth  looked  in  wrath  the  eagle  ; 

And  carrion-kite  and  jay, 
As  soon  as  they  saw  his  beak  and  claw, 

Fled  screaming  far  away." 

VIII. 

The  Herald  of  the  Latines 

Hath  hied  him  back  in  state  : 
The  Fathers  of  the  City 

Are  met  in  high  debate. 
Then  spake  the  elder  Consul, 

An  ancient  man  and  wise : 
"  Now  hearken,  Conscript  Fathers, 

To  that  which  I  advise. 
In  season  of  great  peril 

'T  is  good  that  one  bear  sway  ; 
Then  choose  we  a  Dictator, 

Whom  all  men  shall  obey. 
Camerium  knows  how  deeply 

The  sword  of  Aulus  bites, 
And  all  our  city  calls  him 

The  man  of  seventy  fights. 
Then  let  hirr  be  Dictator 

For  six  months  and  no  more. 
And  have  a  Master  of  the  Knights, 

And  axes  twenty-four." 

IX. 

So  Aulus  was  Dictator, 

The  man  of  seventy  fights  ; 


io6  Xai?6  of  Bncicnt  IRome 

He  made  ^^Bbutius  Elva 

His  Master  of  the  Knights. 
On  the  third  morn  thereafter, 

At  dawning  of  the  day, 
Did  Aulus  and  ^butius 

Set  forth  with  their  array. 
Sempronius  Atratinus 

Was  left  in  charge  at  home 
With  boys,  and  with  gray-headed  men, 

To  keep  the  walls  of  Rome. 
Hard  by  the  Lake  Regillus 

Our  camp  was  pitched  at  night : 
Eastward  a  mile  the  Latines  lay. 

Under  the  Porcian  height. 
Far  over  hill  and  valley 

Their  mighty  host  was  spread  ; 
And  with  their  thousand  watch-fires 

The  midnight  sky  was  red. 

X. 

Up  rose  the  golden  morning 

Over  the  Porcian  height, 
The  proud  Ides  of  Ouintilis 

INIarked  evermore  with  white. 
Not  without  secret  trouble 

Our  bravest  saw  the  foes  ; 
For  girt  by  threescore  thousand  spears, 

The  thirtv  standards  rose. 


trbe  :©attlc  of  tbe  Xake  IResillus  107 


From  every  warlike  city 

That  boasts  the  Latian  name, 
Foredoomed  to  dogs  and  vultures, 

That  gallant  army  came  : 
From  Setia's  purple  vineyards. 

From  Norba's  ancient  wall, 
From  the  white  streets  of  Tusculum, 

The  proudest  town  of  all ; 
From  where  the  Witch's  Fortress 

O'erhangs  the  dark -blue  seas  ; 
From  the  still  glassy  lake  that  sleeps 

Beneath  Aricia's  trees  — 
Those  trees  in  whose  dim  shadow 

The  ghastly  priest  doth  reign, 
The  priest  who  slew  the  slayer, 

And  shall  himself  be  slain  ; 
From  the  drear  banks  of  Ufens, 

Where  flights  of  marsh-fowl  play, 
And  buffaloes  lie  wallowing 

Through  the  hot  summer's  day  ; 
From  the  gigantic  watch-towers, 

No  work  of  earthly  men, 
Whence  Cora's  sentinels  o'erlook 

The  never-ending  fen  ; 
From  the  Ivaurentian  jungle. 

The  wild  hog's  reedy  home  ; 
From  the  green  steeps  whence  Anio  leaps 

In  floods  of  snow-white  foam. 


io8  %ax>6  ot  Bncicnt  IRome 


XI. 

Aricia,  Cora,  Norba, 

Vclitrae,  with  the  might 
Of  Setia  and  of  Tusculum, 

Were  marshalled  on  the  right : 
Their  leader  was  Mamilius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name  ; 
Upon  his  head  a  helmet 

Of  red  gold  shone  like  flame: 
High  on  a  gallant  charger 

Of  dark-gray  hue  he  rode  ; 
Over  his  gilded ^armor 

A  vest  of  purple  flowed, 
Woven  in  the  land  of  sunrise 

By  Syria's  dark-browed  daughters, 
And  by  the  sails  of  Carthage  brought 

Far  o'er  the  southern  waters. 

XII. 

Lavinium  and  Laurentum 

Had  on  the  left  their  post, 
With  all  the  banners  of  the  marsh, 

And  banners  of  the  coast. 
Their  leader  was  false  Sextus, 

That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame  : 
With  restless  pace  and  haggard  face 

To  his  last  field  he  came. 
Men  said  he  saw  strange  visions 

Which  none  beside  might  see  ; 


Zhc  JSattle  of  tbe  Xahe  IRcgillus  log 


And  that  strange  sounds  were  in  his  ears 

Which  none  might  hear  but  he. 
A  woman  fair  and  stately, 

But  pale  as  are  the  dead, 
Oft  through  the  w^atches  of  the  night 

Sat  spinning  by  his  bed. 
And  as  she  plied  the  distaff, 

In  a  sweet  voice  and  low, 
She  sang  of  great  old  houses, 

And  fights  fought  long  ago. 
vSo  spun  she,  and  so  sang  she. 

Until  the  east  was  gray. 
Then  pointed  to  her  bleeding  breast, 

And  shrieked,  and  fled  away. 

XIII. 

But  in  the  centre  thickest 

Were  ranged  the  shields  of  foes, 
And  from  the  centre  loudest 

The  cry  of  battle  rose. 
There  Tibur  marched  and  Pedum 

Beneath  proud  Tarquin's  rule. 
And  Ferentinum  of  the  rock. 

And  Gabii  of  the  pool  ; 
There  rode  the  Volscian  succors  ; 

There,  in  a  dark  stern  ring. 
The  Roman  exiles  gathered  close 

Around  the  ancient  king. 


Xa^s  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


Though  white  as  Mount  Soracte, 

When  winter  nights  are  long, 
His  beard  flowed  down  o'er  mail  and  belt, 

His  heart  and  hand  were  strong  : 
Under  his  hoary  eyebrows 

Still  flashed  forth  quenchless  rage, 
And,  if  the  lance  shook  in  his  grip, 

'T  was  more  with  hate  than  age. 
Close  at  his  side  was  Titus 

On  an  Apulian  steed, 
Titus,  the  youngest  Tarquin, 

Too  good  for  such  a  breed. 


Now  on  each  side  the  leaders 

Gave  signal  for  the  charge  ; 
And  on  each  side  the  footmen 

Strode  on  with  lance  and  targe  ; 
And  on  each  side  the  horsemen 

Struck  their  spurs  deep  in  gore ; 
And  front  to  front  the  armies 

Met  with  a  mighty  roar  : 
And  under  that  great  battle 

The  earth  with  blood  was  red  ; 
And,  like  the  Pomptine  fog  at  mom. 

The  dust  hung  overhead  ; 
And  louder  still  and  louder 

Rose  from  the  darkened  field 


^be  JSattle  ot  tbe  %akc  IRcGillus  m 

The  braying  of  the  war-horns, 
The  clang  of  sword  and  shield, 

The  rush  of  squadrons  sweeping 
Like  w^hirlwinds  o'er  the  plain. 

The  shouting  of  the  slayers. 
And  screeching  of  the  slain. 

XV. 

False  Sextus  rode  out  foremost : 

His  look  was  high  and  bold  ; 
His  corselet  was  of  bison's  hide, 

Plated  with  steel  and  gold. 
As  glares  the  famished  eagle 

From  the  Digentian  rock 
On  a  choice  lamb  that  bounds  alone 

Before  Bandusia's  flock, 
Herminius  glared  on  Sextus, 

And  came  with  eagle  speed, 
Herminius  on  black  Auster, 

Brave  champion  on  brave  steed  ; 
In  his  right  hand  the  broadsword 

That  kept  the  bridge  so  well, 
And  on  his  helm  the  crown  he  won 

When  proud  Fidenae  fell. 
Woe  to  the  maid  whose  lover 

Shall  cross  his  path  to-day  ! 
False  Sextus  saw,  and  trembled, 

And  turned,  and  fled  away. 


Xa^e  ot  ancient  IRomc 


As  turns,  as  flies,  the  woodman 

In  the  Calabrian  brake, 
When  through  the  reeds  gleams  the  round  eye 

Of  that  fell  speckled  snake  ; 
So  turned,  so  fled,  false  vSextus, 

And  hid  him  in  the  rear 
Behind  the  dark  Lavinian  ranks, 

Bristling  with  crest  and  spear. 

XVI. 

But  far  to  north  ^^butius, 

The  Master  of  the  Knights, 
Gave  Tubero  of  Norba 

To  feed  the  Porcian  kites. 
Next  under  those  red  horse-hoofs 

Flaccus  of  Setia  lay  ; 
Better  had  he  been  pruning 

Among  his  elms  that  day. 
Mamilius  saw  the  slaughter, 

And  tossed  his  golden  crest, 
And  towards  the  Master  of  the  Knights 

Through  the  thick  battle  pressed, 
^butius  smote  Mamilius 

So  fiercely  on  the  shield 
That  the  great  lord  of  Tusculum 

Wellnigh  rolled  on  the  field. 
Mamilius  smote  ^butius 

With  a  good  aim  and  true, 


^be  :JSattlc  of  tbe  XaJie  IRcgillus  113 

Just  where  the  neck  and  shoulder  join, 

And  pierced  him  through  and  through  ; 
And  brave  ^i^^butius  Blva 

Fell  swooning  to  the  ground  : 
But  a  thick  wall  of  bucklers 

Encompassed  him  around. 
His  clients  from  the  battle 

Bare  him  some  little  space, 
And  filled  a  helm  from  the  dark  lake, 

And  bathed  his  brow  and  face  ; 
And  when  at  last  he  opened 

His  swimming  eyes  to  light, 
Men  say,  the  earliest  word  he  spake 

Was  :  "  Friends,  how  goes  the  fight  ?  " 

XVII. 

But  meanwhile  in  the  centre 

Great  deeds  of  arms  were  wrought ; 
There  Aulus  the  Dictator 

And  there  Valerius  fought. 
Aulus  with  his  good  broadsword 

A  bloody  passage  cleared 
To  where,  amidst  the  thickest  foes. 

He  saw  the  long  white  beard. 
Flat  lighted  that  good  broadsw^ord 

Upon  proud  Tarquin's  head. 
He  dropped  the  lance  :  he  dropped  the  reins  : 

He  fell  as  fall  the  dead. 


114  Xai^s  of  ancient  IRomc 


Down  Aulus  springs  to  slay  him, 

With  eyes  like  coals  of  fire  ; 
But  faster  Titus  hath  sprung  down, 

And  hath  bestrode  his  sire. 
Latian  captains,  Roman  knights, 

Fast  down  to  earth  they  spring, 
And  hand  to  hand  they  fight  on  foot 

Around  the  ancient  king. 
First  Titus  gave  tall  Caeso 

A  death  wound  in  the  face ; 
Tall  Cseso  was  the  bravest  man 

Of  the  brave  Fabian  race  : 
Aulus  slew  Rex  of  Gabii, 

The  priest  of  Juno's  shrine  : 
Valerius  smote  down  Julius, 

Of  Rome's  great  Julian  line  ; 
Julius,  w^ho  left  his  mansion 

High  on  the  Velian  hill. 
And  through  all  turns  of  weal  and  woe 

Followed  proud  Tarquin  still. 
Now  right  across  proud  Tarquin 

A  corpse  was  Julius  laid  ; 
And  Titus  groaned  with  rage  and  grief, 

And  at  Valerius  made. 
Valerius  struck  at  Titus, 

And  lopped  off  half  his  crest ; 
But  Titus  stabbed  Valerius 

A  span  deep  in  the  breast. 


ii6 


Xags  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


Like  a  mast  snapped  by  the  tempest, 

Valerius  reeled  and  fell. 
Ah  !  woe  is  me  for  the  good  house 

That  loves  the  people  well  ! 
Then  shouted  loud  the  Ivatines  ; 

And  with  one  rush  they  bore 
The  struggling  Romans  backward 

Three  lances'  length  and  more  ; 


And  up  they  took  proud  Tarquin, 
And  laid  him  on  a  shield, 

And  four  strong  yeomen  bare  him, 
Still  senseless,  from  the  field. 


XVIII. 

But  fiercer  grew  the  fighting 

Around  Valerius  dead  ; 
For  Titus  dragged  him  by  the  foot. 

And  Aulus  bv  the  head. 


^be  :®attlc  of  tbc  Xakc  IRegillue  u? 

"  On,  Latines,  on,"  quoth  Titus, 

"  See  how  the  rebels  fly  !  " 
"  Romans,  stand  firm  !  "  quoth  Aulus, 

And  win  this  fight  or  die  ! 
They  must  not  give  Valerius 

To  raven  and  to  kite  ; 
For  aye  Valerius  loathed  the  wrong. 

And  aye  upheld  the  right : 
And  for  your  wives  and  babies 

In  the  front  rank  he  fell. 
Now  play  the  men  for  the  good  house 

That  loves  the  people  well ! ' ' 

XIX. 

Then  tenfold  round  the  body 

The  roar  of  battle  rose, 
Ivike  the  roar  of  a  burning  forest, 

When  a  strong  north  wind  blows. 
Now  hackw^ard,  and  now  forward. 

Rocked  furiously  the  fray, 
Till  norue  could  see  Valerius, 

And  none  wist  where  he  lay. 
For  shi\^red  arms  and  ensigns 

Were  heaped  there  in  a  mound, 
And  corpses  stiff,  and  dying  men 

That  writhed  and  gnawed  the  ground. 

And  wounded  horses  kicking, 
And  snorting  purple  foam  : 


ii8  %a^0  of  Bncicnt  "Rome 


Right  well  did  such  a  couch  befit 
A  Consular  of  Rome. 


XX. 

But  uorth  looked  the  Dictator  ; 

North  looked  he  long  and  hard  ; 
And  spake  to  Caius  Cossus, 

The  Captain  of  his  Guard  : 
"  Caius,  of  all  the  Romans 

Thou  hast  the  keenest  sight  ; 
Say,  what  through  yonder  storm  of  dust 

Comes  from  the  Latian  right  ?  " 


XXI. 

Then  answered  Caius  Cossus  : 

*'  I  see  an  evil  sight ; 
The  banner  of  proud  Tusculum 

Comes  from  the  Latian  right ; 
I  see  the  plumed  horsemen  ; 

And  far  before  the  rest 
I  see  the  dark-gray  charger, 

I  see  the  purple  vest ; 
I  see  the  golden  helmet 

That  shines  far  off  like  flame  ; 
So  ever  rides  Mamilius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name." 


Ube  ^Battle  of  tbe  %^\\c  IRegillus  119 

XXII. 

"  Now  hearken,  Caius  Cossus  : 

Spring  on  thy  horse's  back  ; 
Ride  as  the  wolves  of  Apennine 

Were  all  upon  thy  track  ; 
Haste  to  our  southward  battle  ; 

And  never  draw  thy  rein 
Until  thou  find  Herminius, 

And  bid  him  come  amain." 


XXIII. 

So  Aulus  spake,  and  turned  him 

Again  to  that  fierce  strife  ; 
And  Caius  Cossus  mounted, 

And  rode  for  death  and  life. 
Lroud  clanged  beneath  his  horse-hoofs 

The  helmets  of  the  dead, 
And  many  a  curdling  pool  of  blood 

Splashed  him  from  heel  to  head. 
So  came  he  far  to  southward, 

Where  fought  the  Roman  host, 
Against  the  banners  of  the  marsh 

And  banners  of  the  coast. 
Ivike  com  before  the  sickle 

The  stout  Lavinians  fell. 
Beneath  the  edge  of  the  true  sword 

That  kept  the  bridge  so  well. 


%a^e  of  Bncfent  IRomc 


"  Herminius  !  Aulus  greets  thee  ; 

He  bids  thee  come  with  speed, 
To  help  our  central  battle  ; 

For  sore  is  there  our  need. 
There  wars  the  youngest  Tarquin, 

And  there  the  Crest  of  Flame, 
The  Tusculan  Mamilius, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name. 
Valerius  hath  fallen  fighting 

In  front  of  our  array  : 
And  Aulus  of  the  seventy  fields 

Alone  upholds  the  day." 


Herminius  beat  his  bosom, 

But  never  a  word  he  spake. 
He  clapped  his  hand  on  Auster's  mane 

He  gave  the  reins  a  shake  ; 
Away,  away  went  Auster 

Like  an  arrow  from  the  bow  : 
Black  Auster  was  the  fleetest  steed 

From  Aufidus  to  Po. 


XXVI. 

Right  glad  were  all  the  Romans 
Who,  in  that  hour  of  dread, 


^be  :fiSattle  of  tbe  XaKc  IRcaillus  121 

Against  great  odds  bare  up  the  war 

Around  Valerius  dead, 
When  from  the  south  the  cheering 

Rose  with  a  mighty  swell ; 
"  Herminius  comes,  Herminius, 

Who  kept  the  bridge  so  well !  " 


Mamilius  spied  Herminius, 

And  dashed  across  the  way. 
"  Herminius  !  I  have  sought  thee 

Through  many  a  bloody  day. 
One  of  us  two,  Herminius, 

Shall  never  more  go  home. 
I  will  lay  on  for  Tusculum, 

And  lay  thou  on  for  Rome  !  " 


122  %a^6  ot  Bncient  *Kome 


All  round  them  paused  the  battle, 

While  met  in  mortal  fray 
The  Roman  and  the  Tusculan, 

The  horses  black  and  gray. 
Herminius  smote  Mamilius 

Through  breast-plate  and  through  breast 
And  fast  flowed  out  the  purple  blood 

Over  the  purple  vest. 
Mamilius  smote  Herminius 

Through  head-piece  and  through  head  ; 
And  side  by  side  those  chiefs  of  pride 

Together  fell  down  dead. 
Down  fell  they  dead  together 

In  a  great  lake  of  gore  ; 
And  still  stood  all  who  saw  them  fall 

While  men  might  count  a  score. 


Fast,  fast,  with  heels  wild  spuming, 

The  dark-gray  charger  fled  : 
He  burst  through  ranks  of  fighting  men 

He  sprang  o'er  heaps  of  dead. 
His  bridle  far  out-streaming, 

His  flanks  all  blood  and  foam. 
He  sought  the  southern  mountains. 

The  mountains  of  his  home. 


Zrbe  ^Battle  ot  tbe  %ahc  UUcQiihw  123 


The  pass  was  steep  and  rugged, 

The  wolves  they  howled  and  whined  ; 
But  he  ran  like  a  whirlwind  up  the  pass, 

And  he  left  the  wolves  behind. 
Through  many  a  startled  hamlet 

Thundered  his  flying  feet  ; 
He  rushed  through  the  gate  of  Tusculum, 

He  rushed  up  the  long  white  street ; 
He  rushed  by  tower  and  temple, 

And  paused  not  from  his  race 


Till  he  stood  before  his  master's  door 

In  the  stately  market-place. 
And  straightway  round  him  gathered 

A  pale  and  trembling  crowd, 
And  when  they  knew  him,  cries  of  rage 

Brake  forth,  and  wailing  loud  : 
And  women  rent  their  tresses 

For  their  great  prince's  fall ; 
And  old  men  girt  on  their  old  swords, 

And  went  to  man  the  wall. 


124 


Xags  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


XXX. 

But,  like  a  graven  image, 
Black  Auster  kept  bis  place, 

And  ever  wistfully  he  looked 
Into  his  master's  face. 

The  raven-mane  that  daily, 
With  pats  and  fond  caresses, 


The  young  Herminia  washed  and  combed, 

And  twined  in  even  tresses. 
And  decked  with  colored  ribbons 

From  her  own  gay  attire, 
Hung  sadly  o'er  her  father's  corpse 

In  carnage  and  in  mire. 
Forth  \s4th  a  shout  sprang  Titus, 

And  seized  black  Auster's  rein. 


^be  JSattle  of  tbe  XaKe  H^egiUus   125 

Then  Aulus  sware  a  fearful  oath, 

And  ran  at  him  amain. 
*'  The  furies  of  thy  brother 

With  me  and  mine  abide, 
If  one  of  your  accursed  house 

Upon  black  Auster  ride  !  " 
As  on  an  Alpine  watch-tower 

From  heaven  comes  down  the  flame, 
Full  on  the  neck  of  Titus 

The  blade  of  Aulus  came  ; 
And  out  the  red  blood  spouted. 

In  a  wide  arch  and  tall, 
As  spouts  a  fountain  in  the  court 

Of  some  rich  Capuan's  hall. 
The  knees  of  all  the  Latines 

Were  loosened  with  dismay 
When  dead,  on  dead  Herminius, 

The  bravest  Tarquin  lay. 


And  Aulus  the  Dictator 

Stroked  Auster's  raven  mane, 
With  heed  he  looked  unto  the  girths. 

With  heed  unto  the  rein. 
"  Now  bear  me  well,  Black  Auster, 

Into  yon  thick  array  ; 
And  thou  and  I  will  have  revenge 

For  thy  good  lord  this  day." 


126  Xags  of  Bncient  IRome 


So  spake  lie  ;  and  was  buckling 

Tighter  black  Auster's  band, 
When  he  was  aware  of  a  princely  pair 

That  rode  at  his  right  hand. 
So  like  they  were,  no  mortal 

Might  one  from  the  other  know : 
White  as  snow  their  armor  was ; 

Their  steeds  were  white  as  snow. 
Never  on  earthly  anvil 

Did  such  rare  armor  gleam  ; 
And  never  did  such  gallant  steeds 

Drink  of  an  earthly  stream. 

XXXIII. 

And  all  who  saw  them  trembled, 

And  pale  grew  every  cheek  ; 
And  Aulus  the  Dictator 

Scarce  gathered  voice  to  speak. 
"  Say  by  what  name  men  call  you  ? 

What  city  is  your  home  ? 
And  wherefore  ride  ye  in  such  guise 

Before  the  ranks  of  Rome  ?  " 

XXXIV. 

"  By  many  names  men  call  us  ; 
In  many  lands  we  dwell  : 


^be  JSattle  of  tbc  Xafte  IRecjillu^  127 


Well  Samothracia  knows  us  ; 

Cyrene  knows  as  well.     * 
Our  house  in  gay  Tarentum 

Is  hung  each  morn  with  flowers  ; 
High  o'er  the  masts  of  Syracuse 

Our  marble  portal  towers  ; 
But  by  the  proud  Eurotas 

Is  our  dear  native  home  ; 
And  for  the  right  we  come  to  fight 

Before  the  ranks  of  Rome." 


XXXV. 


So  answered  those  strange  horsemen, 
And  each  couched  low  his  spear ; 

And  forthwith  all  the  ranks  of  Rome 
Were  bold,  and  of  good  cheer  : 


[28  Xa^s  ot  Bncicnt  IRomc 


And  on  the  thirty  armies 

Came  wonder  and  affright, 
And  Ardea  wavered  on  the  left, 

And  Cora  on  the  right. 
"  Rome  to  the  charge  !  "  cried  Aulus 

"  The  foe  begins  to  yield  ! 
Charge  for  the  hearth  of  Vesta! 

Charge  for  the  Golden  Shield  ! 
I^et  no  man  stop  to  plunder, 

But  slay,  and  slay,  and  slay  ; 
The  Gods  who  live  for  ever 

Are  on  our  side  to-day. ' ' 


Then  the  fierce  trumpet-flourish 

From  earth  to  heaven  arose. 
The  kites  know  well  the  long  stem  swell 

That  bids  the  Romans  close. 
Then  the  good  sword  of  Aulus 

Was  lifted  up  to  slay  : 
Then,  like  a  crag  down  Apenuine, 

Rushed  Auster  through  the  fray. 
But  under  those  strange  horsemen 

Still  thicker  lay  the  slain  ; 
And  after  those  strange  horses 

Black  Auster  toiled  in  vain. 
Behind  them  Rome's  long  battle 

Came  rolling  on  the  foe, 


^be  :ffiattle  ot  tbe  Xahe  IRcQillus  129 

Ensigns  dancing  wild  above, 

Blades  all  in  line  below. 
So  comes  the  Po  in  flood-time 

Upon  the  Celtic  plain  ; 
So  conies  the  squall,  blacker  than  night, 

Upon  the  Adrian  main. 
Now,  by  our  Sire  Quirinus, 

It  was  a  goodly  sight 
To  see  the  thirty  standards 

Swept  down  the  tide  of  flight. 
So  flies  the  spray  of  Adria 

When  the  black  squall  doth  blow, 
So  corn-sheaves  in  the  flood-time 

Spin  down  the  whirling  Po. 
False  Sextus  to  the  mountains 

Turned  first  his  horse's  head ; 
And  fast  fled  Ferentinum, 

And  fast  Lanuvium  fled. 
The  horsemen  of  Nomentum 

Spurred  hard  out  of  the  fray  ; 
The  footmen  of  Velitrse 

Threw  shield  and  spear  away. 
And  underfoot  was  trampled. 

Amidst  the  mud  and  gore, 
The  banner  of  proud  Tusculum, 

That  never  stooped  before  : 
And  down  went  Flavins  Faustus, 

Who  led  his  stately  ranks 
From  where  the  apple-blossoms  wave 


I30  %n^e  ot  Bncient  IRome 


On  Anio's  echoing  banks, 
And  Tullus  of  Arpinum, 

Chief  of  the  Volscian  aids, 
And  Metius  with  the  long  fair  curls. 

The  love  of  Anxur's  maids, 
And  the  white  head  of  Vulso, 

The  great  Arician  seer, 


And  Nepos  of  Laurentum, 

The  hunter  of  the  deer  ; 
And  in  the  back  false  Sextus 

Felt  the  good  Roman  steel. 
And  wriggling  in  the  dust  he  died, 

Like  a  worm  beneath  the  wheel : 
And  fliers  and  pursuers 

Were  mingled  in  a  mass  ; 
And  far  away  the  battle 

Went  roaring  through  the  pass. 


^be  JBattle  of  tbe  XaF?e  IRegillua  131 


Sempronius  Atratinus 

Sate  in  the  Eastern  Gate, 
Beside  him  were  three  Fathers, 

Each  in  his  chair  of  state  : 
Fabius,  whose  nine  stout  grandsons 

That  day  were  in  the  field  ; 
And  Manlius,  eldest  of  the  Twelve 

Wh©  keep  the  Golden  Shield  ; 
And  Sergius,  the  High  Pontiff, 

For  wisdom  far  renowned  ; 
In  all  Etruria's  colleges 

Was  no  such  Pontiff  found. 
And  all  around  the  portal, 

And  high  above  the  wall, 
Stood  a  great  throng  of  people, 

But  sad  and  silent  all ; 
Young  lads,  and  stooping  elders 

That  might  not  bear  the  mail, 
Matrons  with  lips  that  quivered. 

And  maids  with  faces  pale. 
Since  the  first  gleam  of  da5'light, 

Sempronius  had  not  ceased 
To  listen  for  the  rushing 

Of  horse-hoofs  from,  the  east. 
The  mist  of  eve  was  rising, 

The  sun  was  hastening  down. 
When  he  was  aware  of  a  princely  pair 

Fast  pricking  towards  the  town. 


132  %a^e  of  ancient  IRomc 


So  like  they  were,  man  never 

Saw  twins  so  like  before  ; 
Red  wdth  gore  their  armor  was, 

Their  steeds  were  red  v/ith  gore. 

XXXVIII. 

"  Hail  to  the  great  Asylum  ! 

Hail  to  the  hill-tops  seven  ! 
Hail  to  the  fire  that  burns  for  aye. 

And  the  shield  that  fell  from  heaven  ! 
This  day,  by  Lake  Regillus, 

Under  the  Porcian  height, 
All  in  the  lands  of  Tusculum 

Was  fought  a  glorious  fight. 
To-morrow  your  Dictator 

Shall  bring  in  triumph  home 
The  spoils  of  thirty  cities 

To  deck  the  shrines  of  Rome  !  " 


Then  burst  from  that  great  concourse 

A  shout  that  shook  the  towers, 
And  some  ran  north,  and  some  ran  south, 

Crying,  "The  day  is  ours  !  " 
But  on  rode  these  strange  horsemen. 

With  slow  and  lordly  pace  ; 
And  none  who  saw  their  bearing 

Durst  ask  their  name  or  race. 


[34  Xa^6  of  Bnclent  TRome 

On  rode  they  to  the  Forum, 

While  laurel-boughs  and  flowers, 
From  house-tops  and  from  windows, 

Fell  on  their  crests  in  showers. 
When  they  drew  nigh  to  Vesta, 

They  vaulted  down  amain, 
And  washed  their  horses  in  the  well 

That  springs  by  Vesta's  fane. 
And  straight  again  they  mounted, 

And  rode  to  Vesta's  door  ; 
Then,  like  a  blast,  away  they  passed, 

And  no  man  saw  them  more. 

XI.. 

And  all  the  people  trembled, 

And  pale  grew  every  cheek  ; 
And  Sergius  the  High  Pontiff 

Alone  found  voice  to  speak  : 
' '  The  Gods  who  live  for  ever 

Have  fought  for  Rome  to-day  ! 
These  be  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

To  whom  the  Dorians  pray. 
Back  comes  the  Chief  in  triumph, 

Who,  in  the  hour  of  fight. 
Hath  seen  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

In  harness  on  his  right. 
Safe  comes  the  ship  to  haven. 

Through  billows  and  through  gales, 
If  once  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 


XLbc  :fi3attle  of  tbe  Xake  IRegillus  135 


Sit  shining  on  the  sails. 
Wherefore  they  washed  their  horses 

In  Vesta's  holy  well, 
WTierefore  they  rode  to  Vesta's  door, 

I  know,  but  may  not  tell. 
Here,  hard  by  Vesta's  Temple, 


Build  we  a  stately  dome 
Unto  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Who  fought  so  well  for  Rome. 
And  when  the  months  returning 

Bring  back  this  day  of  fight, 
The  proud  Ides  of  Quintilis, 

Marked  evermore  with  white, 
Unto  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Let  all  the  people  throng, 
With  chaplets  and  with  offerings, 

With  music  and  with  song ; 
And  let  the  doors  and  windows 


136  Xaga  of  Bnclent  IRome 


Be  hung  with  garlands  all, 
And  let  the  Knights  be  summoned 

To  Mars  without  the  wall : 
Thence  let  them  ride  in  purple 

With  joyous  trumpet-sound, 
Each  mounted  on  his  war-horse. 

And  each  with  olive  crowned  ; 
And  pass  in  solemn  order 

Before  the  sacred  dome. 
Where  dwell  the  Great  Twin  Brethren 

Who  fought  so  well  for  Rome  ! ' ' 


^ 


VIRGINIA. 


A  COLLECTION  consisting  exclusively  of 
war-songs  would  give  an  imperfect,  or 
rather  an  erroneous,  notion  of  the  spirit  of  the 
old  Latin  ballads.  The  patricians,  during  more 
than  a  century  after  the  expulsion  of  the  kings, 
held  all  the  high  military  commands,  A  ple- 
beian, even  though,  like  Lucius  Siccius,  he 
were  distinguished  by  his  valor  and  knowledge 
of  war,  could  serve  only  in  subordinate  posts. 
A  minstrel,  therefore,  who  wished  to  celebrate 
the  early  triumphs  of  his  country-,  could  hardly 
take  any  but  patricians  for  his  heroes.  The 
warriors  who  are  mentioned  in  the  two  pre- 
ceding lays,  Horatius,  Lartius,  Herminius, 
Aulus  Posthumius,  ^butius  Elva,  Sempronius 
Atratinus,  Valerius  Poplicola,  were  all  members 


I40  Xags  ot  Bnclcnt  IRome 


of  the  dominant  order ;  and  a  poet  who  was 
singing  their  praises,  whatever  his  own  political 
opinions  might  be,  would  naturally  abstain 
from  insulting  the  class  to  which  they  be- 
longed, and  from  reflecting  on  the  system 
which  had  placed  such  men  at  the  head  of  the 
legions  of  the  commonwealth. 

But  there  was  a  class  of  compositions  in 
which  the  great  families  were  by  no  means  so 
courteously  treated.  No  parts  of  early  Roman 
history  are  richer  with  poetical  coloring  than 
those  which  relate  to  the  long  contest  between 
the  privileged  houses  and  the  commonalty. 
The  population  of  Rome  was,  from  a  very  early 
period,  divided  into  hereditary  castes,  which, 
indeed,  readily  united  to  repel  foreign  enemies, 
but  which  regarded  each  other,  during  many 
years,  with  bitter  animosity.  Between  those 
castes  there  was  a  barrier  hardly  less  strong 
than  that  which,  at  Venice,  parted  the  members 
of  the  Great  Council  from  their  countrymen. 
In  some  respects,  indeed,  the  line  which  sepa- 
rated an  Icilius  or  a  Duilius  from  a  Posthumius 
or  a  Fabius  was  even  more  deeply  marked  than 


Dircjinla  141 


that  which  separated  the  rower  of  a  gondola 
from  a  Contarini  or  a  Morosini.  At  Venice  the 
distinction  was  merely  civil.  At  Rome  it  was 
both  ci\dl  and  religious.  Among  the  grievances 
under  which  the  plebeians  suffered,  three  were 
felt  as  peculiarly  severe.  They  were  excluded 
from  the  highest  magistracies ;  they  were  ex- 
cluded from  all  share  in  the  public  lands  ;  and 
they  were  ground  down  to  the  dust  by  partial 
and  barbarous  legislation  touching  pecuniary 
contracts.  The  ruling  class  in  Rome  was  a 
moneyed  class ;  and  it  made  and  administered 
the  laws  with  a  view  solely  to  its  own  interest. 
Thus  the  relation  between  lender  and  borrower 
was  mixed  up  with  the  relation  between  sover- 
eign and  subject.  The  great  men  held  a  large 
portion  of  the  community  in  dependence  by 
means  of  advances  at  enormous  usury.  The 
law  of  debt,  framed  by  creditors,  and  for  the 
protection  of  creditors,  was  the  most  horrible 
that  has  ever  been  known  among  men.  The 
liberty,  and  even  the  life,  of  the  insolvent  were 
at  the  mercy  of  the  patrician  money-lenders. 
Children  often  became  slaves  in  consequence 


142  Xai26  of  Bnclcnt  IRome 


of  the  misfortunes  of  their  parents.  The  debtor 
was  imprisoned,  not  in  a  public  jail  under  the 
care  of  impartial  public  functionaries,  but  in  a 
private  workhouse  belonging  to  the  creditor. 
Frightful  stories  were  told  respecting  these 
dungeons.  It  was  said  that  torture  and  brutal 
violation  were  common  ;  that  tight  stocks, 
heavy  chains,  scanty  measures  of  food,  were 
used  to  punish  wretches  guilty  of  nothing  but 
poverty  ;  and  that  brave  soldiers,  whose  breasts 
were  covered  with  honorable  scars,  were  often 
marked  still  more  deeply  on  the  back  by  the 
scourges  of  high-born  usurers. 

The  plebeians  were,  however,  not  wholly 
without  constitutional  rights.  From  an  early 
period  they  had  been  admitted  to  some  share 
of  political  power.  They  were  enrolled  each  in 
his  century,  and  were  allowed  a  share,  consid- 
erable though  not  proportioned  to  their  nu- 
merical strength,  in  the  disposal  of  those  high 
dignities  from  which  they  were  themselves  ex- 
cluded. Thus  their  position  bore  some  resem- 
blance to  that  of  the  Irish  Catholics  during  the 
interval  between  the  year  1792  and  the   year 


IDirginia  143 


1829.  The  plebeians  had  also  the  privilege  of 
annually  appointing  officers,  named  tribunes, 
who  had  no  active  share  in  the  government 
of  the  commonwealth,  but  who,  by  degrees, 
acquired  a  power  formidable  even  to  the  ablest 
and  most  resolute  consuls  and  dictators.  The 
person  of  the  tribune  was  inviolable  ;  and, 
though  he  could  directly  effect  little,  he  could 
obstruct  every  thing. 

During  more  than  a  century  after  the  institu- 
tion of  the  tribuneship,  the  commons  struggled 
manfully  for  the  removal  of  the  grievances  un- 
der which  they  labored  ;  and,  in  spite  of  many 
checks  and  reverses,  succeeded  in  w^ringing 
concession  after  concession  from  the  stubborn 
aristocracy.  At  length,  in  the  year  of  the  city 
378,  both  parties  mustered  their  whole  strength 
for  their  last  and  most  desperate  conflict.  The 
popular  and  active  tribune,  Caius  Licinius, 
proposed  the  three  memorable  laws  which  are 
called  by  his  name,  and  which  were  intended 
to  redress  the  three  great  evils  of  which  the 
plebeians  complained.  He  was  supported,  with 
eminent  ability  and  firmness,  by  his  colleague, 


144  %n^e  of  Bncient  "Komc 


Lucius  vSextius.  The  struggle  appears  to  have 
been  the  fiercest  that  ever  in  any  community 
terminated  without  an  appeal  to  arms.  If  such 
a  contest  had  raged  in  any  Greek  city,  the 
streets  would  have  run  with  blood.  But,  even 
in  the  paroxysms  of  faction,  the  Roman  re- 
tained his  gravity,  his  respect  for  law,  and  his 
tenderness  for  the  lives  of  his  fellow-citizens. 
Year  after  year  Licinius  and  Sextius  were  re- 
elected tribunes.  Year  after  year,  if  the  nar- 
rative which  has  come  down  to  us  is  to  be 
trusted,  they  continued  to  exert,  to  the  full  ex- 
tent, their  power  of  stopping  the  whole  machine 
of  government.  No  curule  magistrates  could 
be  chosen  ;  no  military  muster  could  be  held. 
We  know  too  little  of  the  state  of  Rome  in 
those  days  to  be  able  to  conjecture  how,  during 
that  long  anarchy,  the  peace  was  kept,  and 
ordinary  justice  administered  between  man  and 
man.  The  animosity  of  both  parties  rose  to  the 
greatest  height.  The  excitement,  we  may  well 
suppose,  would  have  been  peculiarly  intense  at 
the  annual  election  of  tribunes.  On  such  oc- 
casions there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  great 


liJirginta  145 


families  did  all  that  could  be  done,  by  threats 
and  caresses,  to  break  the  union  of  the  plebe- 
ians. That  union,  however,  proved  indissolu- 
ble. At  length  the  good  cause  triumphed.  The 
Licinian  laws  w^ere  carried.  Lucius  Sextius  was 
the  first  plebeian  consul,  Caius  Licinius  the 
third. 

The  results  of  this  great  change  were  singu- 
larly happy  and  glorious.  Two  centuries  of 
prosperity,  harmony,  and  victory  followed  the 
reconciliation  of  the  orders.  Men  who  remem- 
bered Rome  engaged  in  waging  petty  wars  al- 
most in  sight  of  the  Capitol  lived  to  see  her  the 
mistress  of  Italy.  While  the  disabilities  of  the 
plebeians  continued,  she  was  scarcely  able  to 
maintain  her  ground  against  the  Volscians  and 
Hemicans.  When  those  disabilities  were  re- 
moved, she  rapidly  became  more  than  a  match 
for  Carthage  and  Macedon. 

During  the  great  Licinian  contest  the  ple- 
beian poets  were,  doubtless,  not  silent.  Even 
in  modern  times  songs  have  been  by  no  means 
without  influence  on  public  affairs ;  and  we 
may  therefore  infer  that,  in  a  society  where 


146  Xaga  of  Bncient  IRomc 

printing  was  unknown,  and  where  books  were 
rare,  a  pathetic  or  humorous  party-ballad  must 
have  produced  effects  such  as  we  can  but  faintly 
conceive.  It  is  certain  that  satirical  poems 
were  common  at  Rome  from  a  very  early  period. 
The  rustics,  who  lived  at  a  distance  from  the 
seat  of  government,  and  took  little  part  in  the 
strife  of  factions,  gave  vent  to  their  petty  local 
animosities  in  coarse  Fescennine  verse.  The 
lampoons  of  the  city  were  doubtless  of  a  higher 
order,  and  their  sting  was  early  felt  by  the 
nobility.  For  in  the  Twelve  Tables,  long 
before  the  time  of  tfie  Licinian  laws,  a  severe 
punishment  was  denounced  against  the  citizen 
who  should  compose  or  recite  verses  reflecting 
on  another.^  Satire  is,  indeed,  the  only  sort  of 
composition  in  which  the  Latin  poets,  whose 
works  have  come  down  to  us,  were  not  mere 
imitators  of  foreign  models,  and  it  is  therefore 
the  only  sort  of  composition  in  which  they  have 

*  Cicero  justly  infers  from  this  law  that  there  had  been 
early  I^atin  poets  whose  works  had  been  lost  before  his 
time.—"  Quamquam  id  quidem  etiam  xii  tabulae  declar- 
ant, condi  jam  tum  solitum  esse  carmen,  quod  ne  liceret 
fieri  ad  alterius  injuriam  lege  sanxerunt."—  Tusc,  iv.,  2. 


Dirainia  147 


never  been  rivalled.  It  was  not,  like  their 
tragedy,  their  comedy,  their  epic  and  lyric 
poetry,  a  hothouse  plant  which,  in  return  for 
assiduous  and  skilful  culture,  gave  only  scanty 
and  sickly  fruits.  It  was  hardy  and  full  of 
sap,  and  in  all  the  various  juices  which  it 
yielded  might  be  distinguished  the  flavor  of  the 
Ausonian  soil.  "  Satire,"  says  Quinctilian,  with 
just  pride,  "is  all  our  own."  Satire  sprang, 
in  truth,  naturally  from  the  constitution  of  the 
Roman  people,  and,  though  at  length  subjected 
to  metrical  rules  derived  from  Greece,  retained 
to  the  last  an  essentially  Roman  character, 
l/ucilius  was  the  earliest  satirist  whose  works 
were  held  in  esteem  under  the  Caesars.  But 
many  years  before  Lucilius  was  born,  Naevius 
was  flung  into  a  dungeon,  and  guarded  there 
with  circumstances  of  unusual  rigor,  on  account 
of  the  bitter  lines  in  which  he  had  attacked  the 
great  Caecilian  family.^  The  genius  and  spirit 
of  the  Roman  satirist  survived  the  liberty  of 
their  country,  and  were  not  extinguished  by  the 
cruel  despotism  of  the  Julian  and  Fla\'ian  em- 
* Plaiitus,  Miles  Gloriosus.     Aulus  Gelluis,  iii.,  3. 


I4S  Xags  of  Bncient  IRomc 

perors.  The  great  poet  who  told  the  story  of 
Domitian's  turbot  was  the  legitimate  successor 
of  those  forgotten  minstrels  whose  songs  ani- 
mated the  factions  of  the  infant  republic. 

These  minstrels,  as  Niebuhr  has  remarked, 
appeared  to  have  generally  taken  the  popular 
side.  We  can  hardly  be  mistaken  in  supposing 
that,  at  the  great  crisis  of  the  civil  conflict, 
they  employed  themselves  in  versifying  all  the 
most  powerful  and  virulent  speeches  of  the 
tribunes,  and  in  heaping  abuse  on  the  leaders 
of  the  aristocracy.  Every  personal  defect,  every 
domestic  scandal,  every  tradition  dishonorable  to 
a  noble  house,  would  be  sought,  brought  out  into 
notice,  and  exaggerated.  The  illustrious  head 
of  the  aristocratical  party,  Marcus  Furius  Ca- 
millus,  might  perhaps  be,  in  some  measure, 
protected  by  his  venerable  age  and  by  the  mem- 
ory of  his  great  ser\4ces  to  the  state.  But  Ap- 
pius  Claudius  Crassus  enjoyed  no  such  im- 
munity. He  was  descended  from  a  long  line  of 
ancestors  distinguished  by  their  haughty  de- 
meanor, and  by  the  inflexibility  with  which 
they  had  withstood  all  the  demands  of  the  pie- 


IDirginia  mq 


beian  order.  While  the  political  conduct  and 
the  deportment  of  the  Claudian  nobles  drew 
upon  them  the  fiercest  public  hatred,  they  were 
accused  of  wanting,  if  any  credit  is  due  to  the 
early  history-  of  Rome,  a  class  of  qualities  which, 
in  the  military  commonwealth,  is  sufficient  to 
cover  a  multitude  of  offences.  The  chiefs  of 
the  family  appear  to  have  been  eloquent,  versed 
in  civil  business,  and  learned  after  the  fashion 
of  their  age  ;  but  in  war  they  were  not  dis- 
tinguished by  skill  or  valor.  Some  of  them,  as 
if  conscious  where  their  weakness  lay,  had, 
when  filling  the  highest  magistracies,  taken 
internal  administration  as  their  department  of 
public  business,  and  left  the  military  command 
to  their  colleagues.*  One  of  them  had  been  in- 
trusted with  an  army,  and  had  failed  ignomin- 
iously.f  None  of  them  had  been  honored  with 
a  triumph.  None  of  them  had  achieved  any 
martial  exploit,  such  as  those  by  which  Lucius 
Quinctius  Cincinnatus,  Titus  Quinctius  Capi- 
tolinus,  Aulus  Cornelius  Cossus,  and,  above  all, 

*  In  the  years  of  the  city  260,  304,  and  330. 
i-In  the  year  of  the  city  282. 


ISO  Xag5  ot  Bncicnt  IRomc 


the  great  Camillus,  had  extorted  the  reluctant 
esteem  of  the  multitude.  During  the  Ivicinian 
conflict  Appius  Claudius  Crassus  signalized  him- 
self by  the  ability  and  severity  with  which  he 
harangued  against  the  two  great  agitators.  He 
would  naturally,  therefore,  be  the  favorite  mark 
of  the  plebeian  satirists  ;  nor  would  they  have 
been  at  a  loss  to  find  a  point  on  which  he  was 
open  to  attack. 

His  grandfather,  called,  like  himself,  Appius 
Claudius,  had  left  a  name  as  much  detested  as 
that  of  Sextus  Tarquinius.  This  elder  Appius 
had  been  consul  more  than  seventy  years  be- 
fore the  introduction  of  the  Licinian  laws.  By 
availing  himself  of  a  singular  crisis  in  public 
feeling,  he  had  obtained  the  consent  of  the 
commons  to  the  abolition  of  the  tribuneship, 
and  had  been  the  chief  of  that  council  of  Ten 
to  which  the  whole  direction  of  the  state  had 
been  committed.  In  a  few  months  his  admin- 
istration had  become  universally  odious.  It 
had  been  swept  away  by  an  irresistible  out- 
break of  popular  fury  ;  and  its  memory  was 
still   held   in   abhorrence    by  the  whole   city. 


\t)irginia  151 


The  immediate  cause  of  the  downfall  of  this 
execrable  government  was  said  to  have  been 
an  attempt  made  by  Appius  Claudius  upon  the 
chastity  of  a  beautiful  3'oung  girl  of  humble 
birtii.  The  story  ran  that  the  Decemvir,  unable 
to  succeed  by  bribes  and  solicitations,  resorted 
to  an  outrageous  act  of  tyranny.  A  vile  de- 
pendant of  the  Claudian  house  laid  claim  to  the 
damsel  as  his  slave.  The  cause  was  brought 
before  the  tribunal  of  Appius.  The  wicked 
magistrate,  in  defiance  of  the  clearest  proofs, 
gave  judgment  for  the  claimant.  But  the  girl's 
father,  a  brave  soldier,  saved  her  from  servitude 
and  dishonor  by  stabbing  her  to  the  heart  in 
the  sight  of  the  whole  Forum.  That  blow  was 
the  signal  for  a  general  explosion.  Camp  and 
city  rose  at  once  ;  the  Ten  were  pulled  down  ; 
the  tribuneship  was  reestablished ;  and  Appius 
escaped  the  hands  of  the  executioner  only  by  a 
voluntary'  death. 

It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  a  story  so  ad- 
mirably adapted  to  the  purposes  both  of  the 
poet  and  of  the  demagogue  would  be  eagerly 
seized  upon  by  minstrels  burning  with  hatred 


152  Xai20  of  Bncient  IRome 


against  the  patrician  order,  against  the  Claudian 
house,  and  especially  against  the  grandson  and 
namesake  of  the  infamous  Decemvir. 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  judge  fairly  of 
these  fragments  of  the  lay  of  Virginia,  he  must 
imagine  himself  a  plebeian  who  has  just  voted 
for  the  reelection  of  Sextius  and  Licinius.  All 
the  power  of  the  patricians  has  been  exerted  to 
throw  out  the  two  great  champions  of  the 
commons,  Bvery  Posthumius,  ^milius,  and 
Cornelius  has  used  his  influence  to  the  utmost. 
Debtors  have  been  let  out  of  the  workhouses 
on  condition  of  voting  against  the  men  of  the 
people ;  clients  have  been  posted  to  hiss  and 
interrupt  the  favorite  candidates  ;  Appius  Clau- 
dius Crassus  has  spoken  with  more  than  his 
usual  eloquence  and  asperity;  all  has  been  in 
vain  :  Licinius  and  Sextius  have  a  fifth  time 
carried  all  the  tribes  ;  work  is  suspended  ;  the 
booths  are  closed ;  the  plebeians  bear  on  their 
shoulders  the  two  champions  of  liberty  through 
the  Forum.  Just  at  this  moment  it  is  an- 
nounced that  a  popular  poet,  a  zealous  adherent 
of  the  tribunes,  has   made  a  new  song  which 


Dfrainia 


153 


will  cut  the  Claudian  nobles  to  the  heart.  The 
crowd  gathers  round  him,  and  calls  on  him  to 
recite  it.  He  takes  his  stand  on  the  spot  where, 
according  to  tradition,  Virginia,  more  than 
seventy  years  ago,  was  seized  by  the  pander  of 
Appius,  and  he  begins  his  story. 


VIRGINIA. 

FRAGMENTS  OF  A  I.AY  SUXG  IN  THF  FORUM  ON 
THF  DAY  WHEREON  I^UCIUS  SEXTIUS  SEX- 
TINUS  LATERANUS  AND  CAIUS  I.ICINIUS  CAI.- 
VUS  STOI,0  WERE  EEECTED  TRIBUNES  OF  THE 
COMMONS  THE  FIFTH  TIME,  IN  THE  YEAR  OF 
THE  CITY  CCCI.XXXII. 


YE  good  men  of  the  Commons,  with  lo\nng 
hearts  and  true, 
Who  stand  by  the  bold  Tribunes  that  still  have 
stood  by  you, 


156  !!La^6  of  Bncfcnt  IRome 


Come,  make  a  circle  round  me,  and  mark  my 

tale  with  care, 
A  tale  of  what  Rome  once  hath  borne,  of  what 

Rome  yet  may  bear. 
This  is  no  Grecian  fable,  of  fountains  running 

wine, 
Of  maids  with  snaky  tresses,  or  sailors  turned 

to  swine. 
Here,  in  this  very  Forum,  under  the  noonday 

sun. 
In  sight  of  all  the  people,  the  bloody  deed  was 

done. 
Old  men  still  creep  among  us  who  saw  that 

fearful  day. 
Just  seventy  years  and  seven  ago,  w^hen   the 

wicked  Ten  bare  sway. 

Of  all  the  wicked  Ten  still  the  names  are  held 

accursed, 
And  of  all  the  wncked  Ten  Appius  Claudius  was 

the  worst. 
He  stalked  along  the  Forum  like  King  Tarquin 

in  his  pride  : 
Twelve  axes  waited  on  him,  six  marching  on  a 

side ; 
The  townsmen  shrank  to  right  and  left,  and 

eyed  askance  wdth  fear 
His  low^ering  brow,  his  curling  mouth,  w^hich 

always  seemed  to  sneer  : 


tDirginia  157 


That  brow  of  hate,  that  mouth  of  scorn,  marks 

all  the  kindred  still ; 
For  never  was  there  Claudius  yet  but  wished 

the  Commons  ill. 
Nor  lacks  he  fit  attendance  ;  for  close  behind 

his  heels, 
With  outstretched  chin  and  crouching  pace,  the 

client  Marcus  steals, 
His  loins  girt  up  to  run  with  speed,  be  the  er- 
rand what  it  may, 
And  the   smile    flickering  on    his   cheek,    for 

aught  his  lord  may  say. 
Such  varlets  pimp  and  jest  for  hire  among  the 

lying  Greeks  ; 
Such  varlets  still  are  paid  to  hoot  when  brave 

Licinius  speaks. 
Where'er  ye  shed  the  honey,  the  buzzing  flies 

will  crowd ; 
Where'er  ye  fling  the  carrion,  the  raven's  croak 

is  loud ; 
Where'er  down  Tiber  garbage  floats,  the  greedy 

pike  ye  see  ; 
And  wheresoe'er  such  lord  is  found,  such  client 

still  will  be. 

Just  then,  as  through  one  cloudless  chink  in  a 
black  stormy  sky. 
Shines  out  the  dewy  morning-star,  a  fair  young 
girl  came  by. 


158 


Xagg  of  Bnctent  IRome 


With  her  small  tablets  in  her  hand,  and  her 

satchel  on  her  arm, 
Home  she  went  bounding  from  the  school,  nor 

dreamed  of  shame  or  harm  ; 
And  past  those  dreaded    axes  she  innocently 

ran, 
With  bright,  frank  brow  that  had  not  learned  to 

blush  at  gaze  of  man  ; 


And  up  the  Sacred  Street  she  turned,  and,  as 

she  danced  along. 
She  warbled  gayly  to  herself  lines  of  the  good 

old  song. 
How  for  a  sport  the  princes  came  spurring  from 

the  camp. 
And  found  Lucrece,  combing  the  fleece,  under 

the  midnight  lamp. 


Virginia  159 


The  maiden  sang  as  sings  the  lark,  when  up  he 

darts  his  flight, 
From  his  nest  in  the  green  April  corn,  to  meet 

the  morning  light ; 
And  Appius  heard  her  sweet  young  voice,  and 

saw  her  sweet  young  face, 
And  loved  her  with  the  accursed  love  of  his 

accursed  race, 
And  all  along  the  Forum,  and  up  the  Sacred 

Street, 
His  ATilture  eye  pursued  the  trip  of  those  small 

srlancino:  feet. 


Over  the  Alban  mountains  the  light  of  morn- 
ing broke  ; 
From  all  the  roofs  of  the  Seven  Hills  curled  the 

thin  wreaths  of  smoke  ; 
The  city  gates  were  opened  ;  the  Forum  all  alive 
With  buyers  and  with  sellers  was  humming  like 

a  hive  : 
Blithely  on  brass  and  timber  the  craftsman's 

stroke  was  ringing, 
And  blithely  o'er  her  panniers  the  market-girl 

was  singing. 
And  blithely  young  Virginia  came  smiling  from 

her  home  : 
Ah  !  woe  for  young  Virginia,  the  sweetest  maid 

in  Rome  ! 


i6o  Uags  of  Bnclent  IRome 

With  her  small  tablets  in  her  hand,  and  her 
satchel  on  her  arm, 

Forth  she  went  bounding  to  the  school,  nor 
dreamed  of  shame  or  harm. 

She  crossed  the  Forum  shining  with  stalls  in 
alleys  gay. 

And  just  had  reached  the  very  spot  whereon  I 
stand  this  day. 

When  up  the  varlet  Marcus  came  ;  not  such  as 
when  erewhile 

He  crouched  behind  his  patron's  heels  with  the 
true  client  smile : 

He  came  with  lowering  forehead,  swollen  fea- 
tures, and  clenched  fist. 

And  strode  across  Virginia's  path,  and  caught 
her  by  the  wrist. 

Hard  strove  the  frightened  maiden,  and 
screamed  with  look  aghast  ; 

And  at  her  scream  from  right  and  left  the  folk 
came  running  fast : 

The  money-changer  Crispus,  with  his  thin  sil- 
ver hairs, 

And  Hanno  from  the  stately  booth  glittering 
with  Punic  wares, 

And  the  strong  smith  Muraena,  grasping  a  half- 
forged  brand, 

And  Volero  the  flesher,  his  cleaver  in  his  hand. 

All  came  in  wrath  and  wonder  ;  for  all  knew 
that  fair  child ; 


IDfrcjinia  i6i 


And,  as  she  passed  them  twice  a  day,  all  kissed 

their  hands  and  smiled  ; 
And  the  strong  smith  Muraena  gave  Marcus  such 

a  blow, 
The  caitiff  reeled  three  paces  back,  and  let  the 

maiden  go. 
Yet  glared  he  fiercely  round  him,  and  growled 

in  harsh,  fell  tone  : 
*'  She  's  mine,  and  I  will  have  her  ;  I  seek  but 

for  mine  own  : 
She  is  my  slave,  born  in  my  house,  and  stolen 

away  and  sold. 
The  year  of  the  sore  sickness,  ere  she  was  twelve 

hours  old. 
'T  was  in  the  sad  September,  the  month  of  w^ail 

and  fright, 
Two  Augurs  were  borne  forth  that  mom  ;  the 

Consul  died  ere  night. 
I  wait  on  Appius  Claudius,  I  waited  on  his  sire : 
Let  him  whQ  works  the  client  wrong  beware 

the  patron's  ire  !  " 

So  spake  the  varlet  Marcus  ;  and  dread  and  si- 
lence came 

On  all  the  people  at  the  sound  of  the  great 
Claudian  name. 

For  then  there  was  no  Tribune  to  speak  the 
word  of  might, 


i62  %n^6  of  Bncient  IRomc 


Which  makes  the  rich  man  tremble,  and  guards 
the  poor  man's  right. 

There  was  no  brave  Licinius,  no  honest  Sextius 
then  ; 

But  all  the  city,  in  great  fear,  obeyed  the  wicked 
Ten. 

Yet  ere  the  varlet  Marcus  again  might  seize 
the  maid, 

Who  clung  tight  to  Muraena's  skirt,  and  sobbed 
and  shrieked  for  aid, 

Forth  through  the  throng  of  gazers  the  young 
Icilius  pressed. 

And  stamped  his  foot,  and  rent  his  gown,  and 
smote  upon  his  breast. 

And  sprang  upon  that  column,  by  many  a  min- 
strel sung, 

Whereon  three  mouldering  helmets,  three  rust- 
ing swords  are  hung. 

And  beckoned  to  the  people,  and  in  bold  voice 
and  clear 

Poured  thick  and  fast  the  burning  words  which 
tyrants  quake  to  hear  : 


"  Now,  by  your  children's  cradles,   now  by 

your  fathers'  graves, 
Be  men  to-day,  Quirites,  or  be  for  ever  slaves  ! 
For' this  did  Servius  give  us  laws  ?    For  this  did 

lyucrece  bleed  ? 


Virginia 


:63 


For  this  was  the  great  vengeance  wrought  on 

Tarquin's  evil  seed  ? 
For  this  did  those  false  sons  make  red  the  axes 

of  their  sire  ? 
For  this  did  Scaevola's  right  hand  hiss  in  the 

Tuscan  fire  ? 
Shall  the   xi\e   fox-earth    awe    the    race    that 

stormed  the  lion's  den  ? 


Shall  we,  who  could  not  brook  one  lord,  crouch 

to  the  wicked  Ten  ? 
O    for   that  ancient   spirit    which   curbed  the 

Senate's  will ! 
O  for  the  tents  which  in  old  time  whitened  the 

Sacred  Hill ! 
In  those  brave  days   our  fathers   stood  firmly 

side  by  side  ; 


i64  %n^6  Of  Bnctent  IRomc 


They  faced  the  Marcian  fury ;  they  tamed  the 

Fabian  pride  : 
They  drove  the  fiercest  Quinctius   an  outcast 

forth  from  Rome ; 
They  sent  the  haughtiest  Claudius  with  shivered 

fasces  home. 
But  what  their  care  bequeathed  us  our  madness 

flung  away  ; 
All    the    ripe    fruit   of   threescore    years    was 

blighted  in  a  day. 
Exult,  ye  proud  Patricians !     The  hard-fought 

fight  is  o'er. 
We  strove  for  honors — 't  was  in  vain  ;  for  free- 
dom— 't  is  no  more. 
No   crier  to   the   polling  summons   the   eager 

throng ; 
No  Tribune  breathes  the  word  of  might  that 

guards  the  weak  from  wrong. 
Our  very  hearts,  that  were  so  high,  sink  down 

beneath  your  will. 
Riches,  and  lands,   and  power,   and  state — ye 

have  them  : — keep  them  still. 
Still  keep  the  holy  fillets  ;  still  keep  the  purple 

gown. 
The  axes,  and  the  curule  chair,  the  car,  and 

laurel  crown  ; 
Still  press  us  for  your  cohorts,  and,  when  the 

fight  is  done, 
Still  fill  your  garners  from  the  soil  which  our 

good  swords  have  won. 


IDirginia  165 


Still,  like  a  spreading  ulcer,  which  leech-craft 

raay  not  cure. 
Let  your  foul  usance  eat  away  the  substance  of 

the  poor. 
Still  let  your  haggard   debtors   bear  all  their 

fathers  bore  ; 
Still  let  your  dens  of  torment  be  noisome  as  of 

yore  ; 
No  fire  when  Tiber  freezes  ;  no  air  in  dog-star 

heat ; 
And  store  of  rods  for  free-born  backs,  and  holes 

for  free-born  feet. 
Heap  heavier  still  the  fetters  ;  bar  closer  still 

the  grate ; 
Patient  as  sheep  we  yield  us  up  unto  your  cruel 

hate. 
But,  by  the  Shades  beneath  us,  and  by  the  Gods 

above. 
Add  not  unto  your  cruel  hate  your  yet  more 

cruel  love  ! 
Have   ye  not  graceful  ladies,    whose  spotless 

lineage  springs 
From  Consuls,  and  High  Pontiffs,  and  ancient 

Alban  kings  ? 
Ladies,  who  deign  not  on  our  paths  to  set  their 

tender  feet. 
Who  from  their  cars  look  down  with  scorn  upon 

the  wondering  street. 
Who  in  Corinthian   mirrors   their   own   proud 

smiles  behold, 


i66  Xai^s  of  Bncicnt  TRome 


And  breathe  of  Capuau  odors,  and  shine  with 

Spanish  gold  ? 
Then  leave  the  poor  Plebeian  his  single  tie  to 

life— 
The  sweet,  sweet  love  of  daughter,  of  sister,  and 

of  wife, 
The  gentle   speech,   the  balm   for  all  that  his 

vexed  soul  endures. 
The  kiss,  in  which  he  half  forgets  even  such  a 

yoke  as  yours. 
Still  let  the  maiden's  beauty  swell  the  fathers 

breast  with  pride ; 
Still  let  the  bridegroom's  arms  infold  an  un- 
polluted bride. 
Spare  us  the  inexpiable  wrong,  the  unutterable 

shame. 
That  turns  the    coward's  heart  to  steel,   the 

sluggard's  blood  to  flame, 
l/cst,  when  our  latest  hope  is  fled,  ye  taste  of 

our  despair. 
And  learn  by  proof,  in  some  wild  hour,  how 

much  the  wretched  dare." 

*  *  4«-  -Sf  4«-  * 

Straightway  Virginius  led  the   maid  a  little 

space  aside, 
To  where  the  reeking  shambles  stood,  piled  up 

with  horn  and  hide, 
Close  to  yon   low  dark  archway,  where,  in  a 

crimson  flood, 


Dirginia  167 


Leaps  down  to  the  great  sewer  the   gurgling 

stream  of  blood. 
Hard  by,   a   flesher   on   a   block   had   laid  his 

whittle  down ; 
Virginius  caught  the  whittle  up,  and  hid  it  in 

his  gown. 
And  then  his  eyes  grew  very  dim,  and  his  throat 

began  to  swell, 


And  in    a    hoarse,    changed  voice   he   spake : 

'  *  Farewell,  sweet  child !  Farewell ! 
Oh  !  how  I  loved  my  darling  !     Though  stem  I 

sometimes  be. 
To  thee,  thou  know'st  I  was  not  so.  \Vh.o  could 

be  so  to  thee  ? 
And  how  my  darling  loved  me  !     How  glad  she 

was  to  hear 
My  footstep  on  the  threshold  when  I  came  back 

last  year  ! 


1 68 


5Las0  of  Bncient  IRome 


And  how  she  danced  with  pleasure  to  see  my 

civic  crown, 
And  took  my  sword,  and  hung  it  up,  and  brought 

me  forth  my  gown  ! 
Now,    all  those  things  are  over — yes,  all   thy 

pretty  ways. 
Thy  needlework,  thy  prattle,  thy  snatches  of 

old  lays  ; 


And  none  will  grieve  when  I  go  forth,  or  smile 

when  I  return, 
Or  watch  beside  the   old  man's  bed,  or  weep 

upon  his  urn. 
The  house  that  was  the   happiest  within   the 

Roman  walls. 
The  house  that  envied  not  the  wealth  of  Capua's 

marble  halls, 
Now,  for  the  brightness  of  thy  smile,  must  have 

eternal  gloom, 


IDirainla 


169 


And  for  the  music  of  thy  voice,  the  silence  of 

the  tomb. 
The  time  is  come.     See  how  he  points  his  eager 

hand  this  way  ! 
See  how  his  eyes  gloat  on  thy  grief,  like  a  kite's 

upon  the  prey  ! 
With  all  his  wit,  he  little  dreams,  that,  spurned, 

betrayed,  bereft, 


Thy  father  hath  in  his  despair  one  fearful  refuge 

left. 
He  little  deems  that  in  this  hand  I  clutch  what 

still  can  save 
Thy  gentle  youth  from  taunts  and  blows,  the 

portion  of  the  slave  ; 
Yea,  and  from  nameless  evil,  that  passeth  taunt 

and  blow — 
Foul  outrage  which  thou  knowest  not,  which 

thou  shalt  never  know. 


170  !JLas6  of  Bncient  IRome 


Then  clasp  me  round  the  neck  once  more,  and 

give  me  one  more  kiss  ; 
And  now,  mine  own  dear  little  girl,  there  is  no 

way  but  this." 
"With  that  he  lifted  high  the  steel,  and  smote 

her  in  the  side, 
And  in  her  blood  she  sank  to  earth,  and  with 

one  sob  she  died. 

Then,  for  a  little  moment,  all  people  held 

their  breath ; 
And  through  the  crowded  Forum  was  stillness 

as  of  death ; 
And  in  another  moment  brake  forth  from  one 

and  all 
A  cry  as  if  the  Volscians  were  coming  o'er  the 

wall. 
Some  with  averted  faces,  shrieking,  fled  home 

amain  ; 
Some  ran  to  call  a  leech  ;  and  some  ran  to  lift 

the  slain  ; 
Some  felt  her  lips  and  little  wrist,  if  life  might 

there  be  found  ; 
And  some  tore  up  their  garments  fast,  and  strove 

to  stanch  the  w^ound. 
In  vain  they  ran,  and  felt,   and  stanched ;  for 

never  truer  blow 
That  good  right  arm  had  dealt  in  fight  against 

a  Volscian  foe. 


IDirainia 


171 


When  Appius  Claudius  saw  that  deed,  he 
shuddered  and  sank  down, 

And  hid  his  face  some  little  space  with  the  cor- 
ner of  his  gown, 

Till,  with  white  lips  and  bloodshot  eyes,  Vir- 
ginius  tottered  nigh, 


And  stood  before  the  judgment-seat,  and  held 
the  knife  on  high. 

' '  Oh  !  dwellers  in  the  nether  gloom,  avengers 
of  the  slain, 

By  this  dear  blood  I  cry  to  you,  do  right  be- 
tween us  twain  ; 

And  even  as  Appius  Claudius  hath  dealt  by  me 
and  mine, 


[72  Xa^6  of  Bncfent  IRome 


Deal  you  by  Appius  Claudius  and  all  the  Clau- 

dian  line!  " 
So  spake  the  slayer  of  his  child,  and  turned, 

and  went  his  way ; 
But  first  he  cast  one  haggard  glance  to  where 

the  body  lay, 
And  writhed,  and  groaned  a  fearful  groan,  and 

then,  with  steadfast  feet. 
Strode  right  across  the  market-place  unto  the 

Sacred  Street. 

Then   up  sprang  Appius   Claudius  :     ' '  Stop 

him  ;  alive  or  dead  ! 
Ten  thousand  pounds  of  copper  to  the  man  who 

brings  his  head." 
He  looked  upon  his  clients  ;  but  none  would 

work  his  will. 
He  looked  upon  his  lictors  ;  but  they  trembled, 

and  stood  still. 
And,  as  Virginius  through  the  press  his  w^ay  in 

silence  cleft. 
Ever  the  mighty  multitude  fell  back  to  right 

and  left. 
And  he  hath  passed  in  safety  unto  his  woful 

home, 
And  there  ta'en  horse  to  tell  the  camp  what 

deeds  are  done  in  Rome. 

By  this  the  flood  of  people  was  swollen  from 
every  side, 


Dir^inta  173 


And  streets  and  porches  round  were  filled  with 

that  o'erflowing  tide  ; 
And   close  around  the  body  gathered  a  little 

train 
Of  them  that  were  the  nearest  and  dearest  to 

the  slain. 
They  brought  a  bier,  and  hung  it  with  many  a 

cypress  crown, 
And  gently  they  uplifted  her,  and  gently  laid 

her  down. 
The  face  of  Appius  Claudius  wore  the  Claudian 

scowl  and  sneer, 
And  in  the  Claudian  note  he  cried  :  "What  doth 

this  rabble  here  ? 
Have   they   no   crafts   to   mind   at  home,   that 

hitherward  they  stray  ? 
Ho  !  lictors,  clear  the  market-place,  and  fetch 

the  corpse  away  !  " 
The  voice  of  grief  and  furj^  till  then  had  not 

been  loud  ; 
But  a  deep  sullen  murmur  wandered  among  the 

crowd, 
Like  the  moaning  noise  that  goes  before  the 

whirlwind  on  the  deep. 
Or  the  growl  of  a  fierce  watch-dog  but  half- 
aroused  from  sleep. 
But  when  the  lictors  at  that  word,  tall  yeomen 

all  and  strong, 
Each  with  his  axe  and  sheaf  of  twigs,   went 

down  into  the  throng, 


174  Xa^a  of  Bncient  IRome 


Those  old  men  say,  who  saw  that  day  of  sorrow 

and  of  sin, 
That  in  the  Roman  Forum  was  never  such  a  din. 
The  wailing,  hooting,  cmrsing,  the  howls  of  grief 

and  hate, 
"Were  heard  beyond  the  Pincian  Hill,  beyond 

the  Latin  Gate. 
But   close   around  the  body,  where  stood  the 

little  train 
Of  them  that  were  the  nearest  and  dearest  to 

the  slain, 
No   cries   were  there,  but  teeth    set  fast,  low 

whispers  and  black  frowns, 
And  breaking  up  of  benches,  and  girding  up  of 

gowns. 
'T  was  well  the  lictors  might  not  pierce  to  w^here 

the  maiden  lay, 
Else  surely  had  they  been  all  twelve  torn  limb 

from  limb  that  day. 
Right  glad  they  w^ere  to  struggle  back,  blood 

streaming  from  their  heads, 
With  axes  all  in  splinters,  and  raiment  all  in 

shreds. 
Then  Appius  Claudius  gnawed  his  lip,  and  the 

blood  left  his  cheek  ; 
And  thrice  he  beckoned  with  his  hand,   and 

thrice  he  strove  to  speak  ; 
And  thrice  the  tossing  Forum  set  up  a  frightful 

yell: 


Dirgiuia 


17; 


"See,  see,  thou  dog  !  what  thou  hast  doue  ;  and 

hide  thy  shame  in  hell  ! 
Thou  that  vrouldst   make  our  maidens  slaves 

must  first  make  slaves  of  men. 
Tribunes  !     Hurrah  for  Tribunes  !     Down  with 

the  wicked  Ten  !  " 
And    straightway,    thick    as    hailstones,    came 

whizzing  through  the  air 
Pebbles,  and  bricks,  and  potsherds,  all  round 

the  curule  chair  ; 


And    upon    Appius   Claudius    great    fear    and 

trembling  came  ; 
For  never   was  a  Claudius   yet  brave   against 

aught  but  shame. 
Though  the  great  houses  love  us  not,  we  own, 

to  do  them  right, 
That  the  great  houses,  all  save  one,  have  borne 

them  well  in  fight. 
Still   Caius   of  Corioli,   his  triumphs   and  his 

wrongs. 


176  Xag6  ot  Bncicnt  IRome 


His  vengeance  and  his  mercy,  live  in  our  camp- 
fire  songs. 
Beneath  the  yoke  of  Furius  oft  have  Gaul  and 

Tuscan  bowed  ; 
And  Rome  may  bear  the  pride  of  him  of  whom 

herself  is  proud. 
But  evermore  a  Claudius  shrinks  from  a  stricken 

field, 
And  changes  color  like  a  maid  at  sight  of  sword 

and  shield. 
The  Claudiau  triumphs  all  were  won  within  the 

city  towers ; 
The  Claudian  yoke  was  never  pressed  on  any 

necks  but  ours. 
A  Cossus,  like  a  wild  cat,  springs  ever  at  the 

face ; 
A  Fabius  rushes  like  a  boar  against  the  shout- 
ing chase  ; 
But  the  vile  Claudian  litter,  raging  with  currish 

spite, 
Still  yelps  and  snaps  at  those  who  run,  still 

runs  from  those  who  smite. 
So  now  't  was  seen  of  Appius.     When  stones 

began  to  fly. 
He  shook,  and  crouched,  and  wrung  his  hands, 

and  smote  upon  his  thigh. 
**  Kind  clients,  honest  lictors,  stand  by  me  in 

this  fray  ! 
Must  I  be  torn  in  pieces?     Home,  home,  the 

nearest  way  !  " 


^ 


78  Xa^s  of  Bncient  IRome 


While  yet  he  spake,  and  looked  around  with  a 

bewildered  stare, 
Four  sturdy  lictors  put  their  necks  beneath  the 

curule  chair; 
And  fourscore  clients  on  the  left,  and  fourscore 

on  the  right. 
Arrayed   themselves   with  swords  and    staves, 

and  loins  girt  up  for  fight. 
But,  though  without  or  staff  or  sw^ord,  so  furious 

was  the  throng. 
That  scarce  the  train   with  might  and  main 

could  bring  their  lord  along. 
Twelve  times   the   crowd  made  at  him ;    five 

times  they  seized  his  gown  ; 
Small  chance  was  his  to  rise  again,  if  once  they 

got  him  dow^n  : 
And  sharper  came  the  pelting  ;  and  evermore 

the  yell  — 
"Tribunes!    we    will    have   Tribunes!" — rose 

with  a  louder  swell  : 
And  the  chair  tossed  as  tosses  a  bark  with  tat- 
tered sail 
"When  raves  the  Adriatic  beneath  an  eastern  gale, 
"When  the  Calabrian  sea-marks  are  lost  in  clouds 

of  spume, 
And  the  great  Thunder-Cape  has  donned  his 

veil  of  inky  gloom. 
One  stone  hit  Appius  in  the  mouth,  and  one 

beneath  the  ear  ; 


Dlrcjinin 


And  ere  he  reached  Mount  Palatine,  he  swooned 

with  pain  and  fear. 
His  cursed  head,  that  he  was  wont  to  hold  so 

high  with  pride, 
Now,  like  a  drunken  man's,  hung  down,  and 

swayed  from  side  to  side  ; 
And  when  his  stout  retainers  had  brought  him 

to  his  door, 
His  face  and  neck  were  all  one  cake  of  filth 

and  clotted  gore. 
As  Appius  Claudius  was  that  day,  so  may  his 

grandson  be  ! 
God  send  Rome  one  such  other  sight,  and  send 

me  there  to  see  ! 


THE  PROPHECY  OE  CAPYS. 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPYS. 


IT  can  hardly  be  necessan^  to  remind  any 
reader  that,  according  to  the  popular  tra- 
dition, Romulus,  after  he  had  slain  his  grand- 
uncle  Amulius,  and  restored  his  grandfather 
Numitor,  determined  to  quit  Alba,  the  heredi- 
tary domain  of  the  Syhdan  princes,  and  to 
found  a  new  city.  The  Gods,  it  was  added, 
vouchsafed  the  clearest  signs  of  the  favor  with 
which  they  regarded  the  enterprise,  and  of  the 
high  destinies  reserved  for  the  young  colony. 

This  event  was  likely  to  be  a  favorite  theme 
of  the  old  Latin  minstrels.  They  would  natu- 
rally attribute  the  project  of  Romulus  to  some 
divine  intimation  of  the  power  and  prosperity 
which  it  was  decreed  that  his  city  should  attain. 
They  would  probably  introduce  seers  foretelling 


t84  Xags  of  Bncient  IRome 


the  victories  of  unborn  consuls  and  dictators, 
and  the  last  great  victory  would  generally 
occupy  the  most  conspicuous  place  in  the  pre- 
diction. There  is  nothing  strange  in  the  sup- 
position that  the  poet  who  was  employed  to 
celebrate  the  first  great  triumph  of  the  Romans 
over  the  Greeks  might  throw  his  song  of  exul- 
tation into  this  form. 

The  occasion  was  one  likely  to  excite  the 
strongest  feelings  of  national  pride.  A  great 
outrage  had  been  followed  by  a  great  retribu- 
tion. Seven  years  before  this  time,  Lucius 
Posthumius  Megellus,  who  sprang  from  one  of 
the  noblest  houses  of  Rome,  and  had  been 
thrice  consul,  was  sent  ambassador  to  Taren- 
tum,  with  charge  to  demand  reparation  for 
grievous  injuries.  The  Taren tines  gave  him 
audience  in  their  theatre,  where  he  addressed 
them  in  such  Greek  as  he  could  command, 
which,  we  may  well  believe,  was  not  exactly 
such  as  Cineas  would  have  spoken.  An  ex- 
quisite sense  of  the  ridiculous  belonged  to  the 
Greek  character ;  and  closely  connected  with 
this  faculty  was  a  strong  propensity  to  flippancy 


XLbc  propbecs  of  Gapi^s  185 

and  impertinence.  When  Posthumius  placed 
an  accent  wrong,  his  hearers  burst  into  a  laugh. 
When  he  remonstrated,  they  hooted  him,  and 
called  him  barbarian ;  and  at  length  hissed  him 
off  the  stage  as  if  he  had  been  a  bad  actor.  As 
the  grave  Roman  retired,  a  buffoon  who,  from 
his  constant  drunkenness,  was  nicknamed  the 
Pint-pot,  came  up  with  gestures  of  the  grossest 
indecency,  and  bespattered  the  senatorial  gown 
with  filth.  Posthumius  turned  round  to  the 
multitude,  and  held  up  the  gown,  as  if  appeal- 
ing to  the  universal  law  of  nations.  The  sight 
only  increased  the  insolence  of  the  Taren- 
tines.  They  clapped  their  hands,  and  set 
up  a  shout  of  laughter  which  shook  the  the- 
atre. "Men  of  Tarentum,"  said  Posthumius, 
"it  wnll  take  not  a  little  blood  to  wash  this 
gown."  * 

Rome,  in  consequence  of  this  insult,  declared 
war  against  the  Tarentines.  The  Tarentines 
sought  for  allies  beyond  the  Ionian  Sea.  Pyr- 
rhus,  king  of  Epirus,  came  to  their  help  with  a 
large  army  ;  and,  for  the  first  time,  the  two 
*  Dion.  Hal.  De  Legationibus. 


i86  %ti^0  Of  Bncient  IRome 


great  nations  of  antiquity  were  fairly  matched 
against  each  other. 

The  fame  of  Greece  in  arms,  as  well  as  in 
arts,  was  then  at  the  height.  Half  a  century 
earlier,  the  career  of  Alexander  had  excited  the 
admiration  and  terror  of  all  nations  from  the 
Ganges  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules.  Royal 
houses,  founded  by  Macedonian  captains,  still 
reigned  at  Antioch  and  Alexandria.  That  bar- 
barian warriors,  led  by  barbarian  chiefs,  should 
win  a  pitched  battle  against  Greek  valor  guided 
by  Greek  science,  seemed  as  incredible  as  it 
would  now  seem  that  the  Burmese  or  the 
Siamese  should,  in  the  open  plain,  put  to  flight 
an  equal  number  of  the  best  English  troops. 
The  Tarentines  were  convinced  that  their 
countr5mien  were  irresistible  in  war  ;  and  this 
conviction  had  emboldened  them  to  treat  with 
the  grossest  indignity  one  whom  they  regarded 
as  the  representative  of  an  inferior  race.  Of 
the  Greek  generals  then  living,  Pyrrhus  was 
indisputably  the  first.  Among  the  troops  who 
were  trained  in  the  Greek  discipline,  his  Epiro- 
tes  ranked  high.     His  expedition  to  Italy  was  a 


tTbc  ipropbec^  of  Gap^s 


187 


turning-point  in  the  historv^  of  the  world.  He 
found  there  a  people  who,  far  inferior  to  the 
Athenians  and  Corinthians  in  the  fine  arts,  in 
the  speculative  sciences,  and  in  all  the  refine- 
ments of  life,  were  the  best  soldiers  on  the  face 


of  the  earth.  Their  arms,  their  gradations  of 
rank,  their  order  of  battle,  their  method  of  in- 
trenchment,  were  all  of  Latian  origin,  and  had 
all  been  gradually  brought  near  to  perfection, 
not  by  the  study  of  foreign  models,  but  by  the 
genius  and  experience  of  many  generations  of 


t88  Xai^s  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


great  native  commanders.  The  first  words 
which  broke  from  the  king,  when  his  practised 
eye  had  surveyed  the  Roman  encampment, 
were  full  of  meaning:  "These  barbarians," 
he  said,  "have  nothing  barbarous  in  their 
military  arrangements."  He  was  at  first  vic- 
torious ;  for  his  own  talents  were  superior  to 
those  of  the  captains  who  were  opposed  to 
him  ;  and  the  Romans  were  not  prepared  for 
the  onset  of  the  elephants  of  the  East,  which 
were  then  for  the  first  time  seen  in  Italy — 
moving  mountains,  with  long  snakes  for 
hands.*  But  the  victories  of  the  Epirotes 
were  fiercely  disputed,  dearly  purchased,  and 
altogether  unprofitable.  At  length,  Manius 
Curius  Dentatus,  who  had  in  his  first  consul- 
ship won  two  triumphs,  was  again  placed  at 
the  head  of  the  Roman  commonwealth,  and 
sent  to  encounter  the  invaders.  A  great  battle 
was  fought  near  Beneventum.  Pyrrhus  was 
completely  defeated.  He  repassed  the  sea ; 
and  the  world  learned,  with  amazement,  that  a 

*  Anguimanus  is  the  old  L,atiii  epithet  for  an  elephant. 
Lucretius,  ii.  538,  v.  1302. 


ZTbe  propbecs  of  Cap^s 


189 


people  had  been  discovered,  who,  iu  fair  fight- 
ing, were  superior  to  the  best  troops  that  had 
been  drilled  in  the  system  of  Parmenio  and 
Antigonus. 

The  conquerors  had  a  good  right  to  exult  in 
their  success  ;  for  their  glory  was  all  their  own. 
They  had  not  learned  from  their  enemy  how  to 


conquer  him.  It  was  with  their  own  national 
arms,  and  in  their  own  national  battle-array, 
that  they  had  overcome  weapons  and  tactics 
long  believed  to  be  invincible.  The  pilum  and 
the  broadsword  had  vanquished  the  Macedo- 
nian spear.  The  legion  had  broken  the  Mace- 
donian  phalanx.     Even  the   elephants,    when 


190 


XaB0  of  Undent  IRome 


the  surprise  produced  by  their  first  appearance 
was  over,  could  cause  no  disorder  in  the  steady- 
yet  flexible  battalions  of 
Rome. 

It  is  said  by  Florus,  and 
may  easily  be  believed, 
that  the  triumph  far  sur- 
passed in  magnificence 
any  that  Rome  had  pre- 
viously seen.  The  only 
spoils  which  Papirius  Cur- 
sor and  Fabius  Maximus 
could  exhibit  were  flocks 
and  herds,  wagons  of  rude 
structure,  and  heaps  of 
spears  and  helmets.  But 
now,  for  the  first  time, 
the  riches  of  Asia  and  the 
arts  of  Greece  adorned  a 
Roman  pageant.  Plate, 
fine  stuffs,  costly  furni- 
ture, rare  animals,  exquisite  paintings  and 
sculptures,  formed  part  of  the  procession.  At 
the    banquet    would    be    assembled    a    crowd 


Zbc  ipropbeci?  of  Cap^e  lyi 

of  warriors  and  statesmen,  among  whom  Ma- 
nius  Curius  Dentatus  would  take  the  highest 
room.  Caius  Fabricius,  then,  after  two  consul- 
ships and  two  triumphs,  Censor  of  the  Com- 
monwealth, would  doubtless  occupy  a  place  of 
honor  at  the  board.  In  situations  less  con- 
spicuous probably  lay  some  of  those  who  were, 
a  few  years  later,  the  terror  of  Carthage  : 
Caius  Duilius,  the  founder  of  the  maritime 
greatness  of  his  country  ;  Marcus  Atilius  Reg- 
ulus,  who  owed  to  defeat  a  renown  far  higher 
than  that  which  he  had  derived  from  his  vic- 
tories ;  and  Caius  I^utatius  Catulus,  who,  while 
suffering  from  a  grievous  wound,  fought  the 
great  battle  of  the  Agates,  and  brought  the  first 
Punic  war  to  a  triumphant  close.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  recount  the  names  of  these  eminent 
citizens,  without  reflecting  that  they  were  all, 
without  exception,  plebeians,  and  would,  but 
for  the  ever-memorable  struggle  maintained  by 
Caius  Licinius  and  Lucius  Sextius,  have  been 
doomed  to  hide  in  obscurity,  or  to  waste  in 
civil  broils,  the  capacity  and  energy  which  pre- 
vailed against  Pyrrhus  and  Hamilcar. 


192  %n\2e  ot  Bncicnt  IRome 


On  such  a  day  we  may  suppose  that  the  pa- 
triotic enthusiasm  of  a  Latin  poet  would  vent 
itself  in  reiterated  shouts  of  lo  iruimphc,  such 
as  were  uttered  by  Horace  on  a  far  less  exciting 
occasion,  and  in  boasts  resembling  those  which 
Virgil  put  into  the  mouth  of  Anchises.  The 
superiority  of  some  foreign  nations,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  Greeks,  in  the  lazy  arts  of  peace, 
would  be  admitted  with  disdainful  candor  ;  but 
pre-eminence  in  all  the  qualities  which  fit  a 
people  to  subdue  and  govern  mankind  would 
be  claimed  for  the  Romans. 

The  following  lay  belongs  to  the  latest  age  of 
Latin  ballad-poetry.  Nsevius  and  Livius  An- 
dronicus  were  probably  among  the  children 
whose  mothers  held  them  up  to  see  the  chariot 
of  Curius  go  by.  The  minstrel  who  sang  on 
that  day  might  possibly  have  lived  to  read  the 
first  hexameters  of  Ennius,  and  to  see  the  first 
comedies  of  Plautus.  His  poem,  as  might  be 
expected,  shows  a  much  wider  acquaintance 
with  the  geography,  manners,  and  productions 
of  remote  nations,  than  would  have  been  found 
in  compositions  of  the  age  of  Camillus.     But  he 


Zbc  ipropbecg  of  Capi^e 


193 


troubles  himself  little  about  dates,  and  having 
heard  travellers  talk  with  admiration  of  the  Co- 
lossus of  Rhodes,  and  of  the  structures  and  gar- 
dens v\-ith  which  the  Macedonian  kings  of  vSyria 
had  embellished  their  residence  on  the  banks 
of  the  Orontes,  he  had  never  thought  of  inquir- 
ing whether  those  things  existed  in  the  age  of 
Romulus. 


THE  PROPHECY  OF  CAPYS. 

A  I,AY  SUNG  AT  THE  BANQUET  IN  THE  CAPITOI., 
ON  THE  DAY  WHEREON  MANIUS  CURIUS 
DENTATUS,  A  SECOND  TIME  CONSUL,  TRI- 
UMPHED OVER  KING  PYRRHUS  AND  THE 
TARENTINES,  IN  THE  YEAR  OF  THE  CITY 
CCCCI^XXIX. 


NOW  slain  is  King  Amulius, 
Of  the  great  Sylvian  line, 
Who  reigned  in  Alba  Longa, 
On  the  throne  of  Aventine. 
Slain  is  the  Pontiff  Gamers, 

Who  spake  the  words  of  doom  : 
"  The  children  to  the  Tiber  ; 
The  mother  to  the  tomb." 


^be  propbecs  of  Capias 


195 


II. 

In  Alba's  lake  no  fisher 

His  net  to-day  is  flinging  : 
On  the  dark  rind  of  Alba's  oaks 

To-day  no  axe  is  ringing  : 
The  yoke  hangs  o'er  the  manger 

The  scythe  lies  in  the  hay  : 
Through  all  the  Alban  villages 

No  work  is  done  to-day. 


ni. 

And  every  Alban  burgher 

Hath  donned  his  whitest  gown  ; 
And  every  head  in  Alba 

Weareth  a  poplar  crown  ; 
And  every  Alban  door-post 

With  boughs  and  flowers  is  gay  : 
For  to-day  the  dead  are  living  ; 

The  lost  are  found  to-day. 


196 


Xag6  of  Bncicnt  IRomc 


rv. 

They  were  doomed  by  a  bloody  king  : 

They  were  doomed  by  a  lying  priest : 
They  were  cast  on  the  raging  flood  : 

They  were  tracked  by  the  raging  beast 
Raging  beast  and  raging  flood 

Alike  have  spared  the  prey  ; 
And  to-day  the  dead  are  living  : 

The  lost  are  found  to-day. 


The  troubled  river  knew  them, 

And  smoothed  his  yellow  foam, 
And  gently  rocked  the  cradle 

That  bore  the  fate  of  Rome. 
The  ravening  she-wolf  knew  them, 

And  licked  them  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  gave  them  of  her  own  fierce  milk, 

Rich  with  raw  flesh  and  gore. 


^be  ipropbec^  of  Gap^s  197 


Twenty  winters,  twenty  springs, 
Since  then  have  rolled  away  ; 

And  to-day  the  dead  are  living  : 
The  lost  are  found  to-day. 

VI. 

Blithe  it  was  to  see  the  twins, 

Right  goodly  youths  and  tall, 
Marching  from  Alba  Longa 

To  their  old  grandsire's  hall. 
Along  their  path  fresh  garlands 

Are  hung  from  tree  to  tree  ; 
Before  them  stride  the  pipers. 

Piping  a  note  of  glee. 


On  the  right  goes  Romulus 

With  arms  to  the  elbows  red. 
And  in  his  hand  a  broadsword, 

And  on  the  blade  a  head — 
A  head  in  an  iron  helmet, 

With  horse-hair  hanging  down, 
A  shaggy  head,  a  swarthy  head. 

Fixed  in  a  ghastly  frown — 
The  head  of  King  Amulius 

Of  the  great  Sylvian  line. 
Who  reigned  in  Alba  Longa 

On  the  throne  of  Aventine, 


'"'"^y^'t^^^' 


Zbc  propbccs  of  Caps6  199 


VIII. 

On  the  left  side  goes  Remus, 

With  wrists  and  fingers  red, 
And  in  his  hands  a  boar-spear, 

And  on  the  point  a  head — 
A  wrinkled  head  and  aged, 

With  silver  beard  and  hair. 
And  holy  fillets  round  it. 

Such  as  the  pontiffs  wear — 
The  head  of  ancient  Camers, 

Who  spake  the  words  of  doom 
*'  The  children  to  the  Tiber  ; 

The  mother  to  the  tomb." 


IX. 

Two  and  two  behind  the  twins 

Their  trusty  comrades  go, 
Four  and  forty  valiant  men, 

With  club,  and  axe,  and  bow. 
On  each  side  every  hamlet 

Pours  forth  its  joyous  crowd, 
Shouting  lads  and  baying  dogs 

And  children  laughing  loud, 
And  old  men  weeping  fondly 

As  Rhea's  boys  go  by, 
And  maids  who  shriek  to  see  the  heads. 

Yet,  shrieking,  press  more  nigh. 


200 


Xag6  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


So  they  marched  along  the  lake  ; 

They  marched  by  fold  and  stall, 
By  cornfield  and  by  vineyard, 

Unto  the  old  man's  hall. 


In  the  hall-gate  sat  Capys, 
Capys,  the  sightless  seer  ; 

From  head  to  foot  he  trembled 
As  Romulus  drew  near. 


i^ 


And  up  stood  stiff  his  thin  white  hair. 
And  his  blind  eyes  flashed  fire  : 

"Hail !  foster  child  of  the  wondrous  nurse  ! 
Hail !  son  of  the  w^ondrous  sire. 


XII. 

But  thou — what  dost  thou  do  here 
In  the  old  man's  peaceful  hall  ? 


Cbe  iC>ropbcc^  of  Cap^B 


20I 


WHiat  doth  the  eagle  iu  the  coop, 

The  bison  in  the  stall  ? 
Our  com  fills  many  a  garner  ; 

Our  vines  clasp  many  a  tree  ; 
Our  flocks  are  white  on  many  a  hill  ; 

But  these  are  not  for  thee. 

XIII. 

"  For  thee  no  treasure  ripens 

In  the  Tartessian  mine  : 
For  thee  no  ship  brings  precious  bales 

Across  the  Libyan  brine  ; 


;._a::^ 


Thou  shalt  not  drink  from  amber : 
Thou  shalt  not  rest  on  down  ; 

Arabia  shall  not  steep  thy  locks, 
Nor  Sidon  tinge  thy  gown. 


xrv. 
Leave  gold  and  myrrh  and  jewels, 
Rich  table  and  soft  bed, 


202  Xa^0  ot  Bncfcnt  IRome 

To  tliem  who  of  man's  seed  are  born, 

Whom  woman's  milk  hath  fed. 
Thou  wast  not  made  for  lucre, 

For  pleasure,  nor  for  rest  ; 
Thou,  that  art  sprung  from  the  War-god's  loins 

And  hast  tugged  at  the  she-wolf's  breast. 


XV. 


From  sunrise  unto  sunset 
All  earth  shall  hear  thy  fame 


...^-i^^e^A:: 


A  glorious  city  thou  shalt  build, 
And  name  it  by  thy  name  : 

And  there,  unquenched  through  ages, 
Like  Vesta's  sacred  fire, 

Shall  live  the  spirit  of  thy  nurse, 
The  spirit  of  thy  sire. 


trbe  ipropbec^  of  Capgs  203 


"The  ox  toils  through  the  furrow, 

Obedient  to  the  goad  ; 
The  patient  ass,  up  flinty  paths, 

Plods  with  his  w^eary  load  : 
With  whine  and  bound  the  spaniel 

His  master's  whistle  hears  ; 
And  the  sheep  yields  her  patiently 

To  the  loud-clashing  shears. 

XVII. 

'*  But  thy  nurse  will  hear  no  master  ; 

Thy  nurse  will  bear  no  load  ; 
And  woe  to  them  that  shear  her, 

And  woe  to  them  that  goad  ! 
When  all  the  pack,  loud  baying, 

Her  bloody  lair  surrounds, 
She  dies  in  silence,  biting  hard. 

Amidst  the  dvingf  hounds. 


"Pomona  loves  the  orchard  ; 

And  Liber  loves  the  vine  ; 
And  Pales  loves  the  straw-built  shed 

Warm  with  the  breath  of  kine  ; 
And  Venus  loves  the  whispers 

Of  plighted  youth  and  maid, 


204 


Xa^s  of  Bnclent  IRome 


In  April's  ivory  moonlight 
Beneath  the  chestnut  shade. 


"  But  thy  father  loves  the 
clashing 
Of  broadsword   and   of 
shield  ; 
He    loves    to    drink    the 
steam  that  reeks 
From  the   fresh  battle- 
field ; 
He  smiles   a   smile  more 
dreadful 
Than  his  own  dreadful 
frown, 
When   he   sees  the  thick 
black  cloud  of  smoke 
Go    up   from    the    con- 
quered town. 


trbe  ipropbec^  of  Gapi^s  205 


"And  such  as  is  the  War-god, 

The  author  of  thy  line, 
And  such  as  she  who  suckled  thee, 

Kven  such  be  thou  and  thine, 
Leave  to  the  soft  Campanian 

His  baths  and  his  perfumes  ; 
Leave  to  the  sordid  race  of  Tyre 

Their  dyeing-vats  and  looms  ; 
Leave  to  the  sons  of  Carthage 

The  rudder  and  the  oar  ; 
Leave  to  the  Greek  his  marble  nymphs 

And  scrolls  of  wordy  lore. 

XXI. 

**  Thine,  Roman,  is  the  pilum  ; 

Roman,  the  sword  is  thine. 
The  even  trench,  the  bristling  mound, 

The  legion's  ordered  line  ; 
And  thine  the  wheels  of  triumph, 

Which  with  their  laurelled  train 
Move  slowly  up  the  shouting  streets 

To  Jove's  eternal  fane. 

XXII. 

"  Beneath  thy  yoke  the  Volscian 
Shall  veil  his  loftv  brow  ; 


2o6 


Xaiss  ot  Bncicnt  IRome 


Soft  Capua's  curled  revellers 
Before  thy  chairs  shall  bow  ; 

The  Lucumoes  of  Arnus 

Shall  quake  thy  rods  to  see  ; 

And  the  proud  Samuite's  heart  of  steel 
Shall  yield  to  only  thee. 


**  The  Gaul  shall  come  against  thee 
From  the  land  of  snow  and  night ; 

Thou  shalt  give  his  fair-haired  armies 
To  the  raven  and  the  kite. 


**  The  Greek  shall  come  against  thee, 

The  conqueror  of  the  Bast. 
Beside  him  stalks  to  battle 

The  huge  earth-shaking  beast, 
The  beast  on  whom  the  castle 

With  all  its  guards  doth  stand, 
The  beast  who  hath  between  his  eyes 

The  serpent  for  a  hand. 


^be  ipropbecB  of  Capgs  207 

First  march  the  bold  Epirotes, 

Wedged  close  with  shield  and  spear ; 

And  the  ranks  of  false  Tarentum 
Are  glittering  in  the  rear. 

XXV. 

*'  The  ranks  of  false  Tarentum 

Like  hunted  sheep  shall  fly  ; 
In  vain  the  bold  Epirotes 

Shall  round  their  standards  die  ; 
And  Apennine's  gray  vultures 

Shall  have  a  noble  feast 
On  the  fat  and  the  eyes 

Of  the  huge  earth-shaking  beast. 


:iiM.Z^'^^m^Cn4^  ^^^^.a^::.^.-W^ i 


"  Hurrah  !  for  the  good  weapons 

That  keep  the  War-god's  land. 
Hurrah  !  for  Rome's  stout  pilum 

In  a  stout  Roman  hand. 
Hurrah !  for  Rome's  short  broadsword, 

That  through  the  thick  array 
Of  levelled  spears  and  serried  shields 

Hews  deep   its  gory  way. 


2o8  Xas6  of  Bncicnt  IRome 


XXVII. 

"  Hurrah  !  for  the  great  triumph 

That  vStretches  many  a  mile. 
Hurrah  !  for  the  wan  captives 

That  pass  in  endless  file. 
Ho  !  bold  Bpirotes,  whither 

Hath  the  Red  King  ta'en  flight? 
Ho  !  dogs  of  false  Tarentum, 

Is  not  the  gown  washed  white  ? 


XXVIII. 

"  Hurrah  !  for  the  great  triumph 

That  stretches  many  a  mile. 
Hurrah  !  for  the  rich  dye  of  Tyre, 

And  the  fine  web  of  Nile, 
The  helmets  gay  with  plumage 

Torn  from  the  pheasant's  wings, 
The  belts  set  thick  with  starry  gems 

That  shone  on  Indian  kings 


Zbc  ipropbccs  of  Capias  209 


The  urns  of  massy  silver, 

The  goblets  rough  with  gold, 
The  many-colored  tablets  bright 

With  loves  and  wars  of  old, 
The  stone  that  breathes  and  struggles, 

The  brass  that  seems  to  speak  ; 
Such  cunning  they  who  dwell  on  high 

Have  given  unto  the  Greek. 


"Hurrah  !  for  Manius  Curius, 

The  bravest  son  of  Rome, 
Thrice  in  utmost  need  sent  forth, 

Thrice  drawn  in  triumph  home. 
Weave,  weave,  for  Manius  Curius 

The  third  embroidered  gown  : 
Make  ready  the  third  lofty  car. 

And  tw^ne  the  third  green  crown  ; 
And  yoke  the  steeds  of  Rosea 

With  necks  like  a  bended  bow. 
And  deck  the  bull,  Mevania's  bull, 

The  bull  as  white  as  snow. 

XXX. 

"Blest  and  thrice  blest  the  Roman 
Who  sees  Rome's  brightest  day, 

Who  sees  that  long  victorious  pomp 
Wind  down  the  Sacred  Way, 


tibc  ipropbecs  ot  Capgs 


And  through  the  bellowing  Forum, 
And  round  the  vSuppliant's  Grove, 

Up  to  the  everlasting  gates. 
Of  Capitolian  Jove. 


XXXI. 

**  Then  where,  o'er  two  bright  havens. 

The  towers  of  Corinth  frown  ; 
Where  the  gigantic  King  of  Day 

On  his  own  Rhodes  looks  down ; 
Where  soft  Orontes  murmurs 

Beneath  the  laurel  shades  ; 
Where  Nile  reflects  the  endless  length 

Of  dark-red  colonnades ; 
Where  in  the  still  deep  water, 

Sheltered  from  waves  and  blasts, 
Bristles  the  dusky  forest 

Of  Byrsa's  thousand  masts  ; 
Where  fur-clad  hunters  wander 

Amidst  the  northern  ice  ; 
Where  through  the  sand  of  morning-land 

The  camel  bears  the  spice  ; 
Where  Atlas  flings  his  shadow 

Far  o'er  the  western  foam, 
Shall  be  great  fear  on  all  who  hear 

The  mighty  name  of  Rome." 


4^-- 

^■^ 


^ 


-fil 


u 


% 


r: 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


IVRY. 


NOW  glorv'  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  from  whom 
all  glories  are  ! 
And  glor}'  to  om-  Sovereign  Liege,  King  Henry 

of  Navarre  ! 
Now  let  there  be  the  merry  sound  of  music  and 

of  dance, 
Through  thy  corn-fields  green,  and  sunny  vines, 

O  pleasant  land  of  France  ! 
And  thou,  Rochelle,  our  own  Rochelle,  proud 

city  of  the  waters, 
Again   let  rapture  light  the   eyes  of   all   thy 

mourning  daughters. 
As  thou  wert  constant  in  our  ills,  be  joyous  in 

our  joy, 
For   cold,    and  stiff,    and    still   are   they   who 

wrought  thy  walls  annoy. 
Hurrah  !    hurrah  !    a  single   field   hath  turned 

the  chance  of  war. 
Hurrah  !   hurrah!    for  Ivry,  and  Henry  of  Na- 


2i6  /ibiscellancoug  ipoems 

Oh !  how  our  hearts  were  beating,  when  at 

the  dawn  of  day, 
We  saw  the  army  of  the  League  drawn  out  in 

long  array ; 
With  all  its  priest-led  citizens,  and  all  its  rebel 

peers, 
And  Appenzel's  stout  infantry,  and  Egmont's 

Flemish  spears. 
There  rode  the  brood  of  false  Lorraine,  the 

curses  of  our  land  ; 
And  dark  Mayenne  was  in  the  midst,  a  trun- 
cheon in  his  hand  : 
And,  as  we  looked  on   them,  we   thought  of 

Seine's  empurpled  flood, 
And  good  Coligni's  hoary  hair  all  dabbled  with 

his  blood  ; 
And  we  cried  unto  the  living  God,  who  rules 

the  fate  of  war, 
To  fight  for  his  own  holy  name,  and  Henry  of 

Navarre. 

The  King  is  come  to  marshal  us,  in   all  his 

armor  drest, 
And  he  has  bound  a  snow-white  plume  upon  his 

gallant  crest. 
He  looked  upon  his  people,  and  a  tear  was  in 

his  eye  ; 
He  looked  upon  the  traitors,  and  his  glance 

was  stern  and  high. 


ITvr^  217 

Right  graciously  he  smiled  on   us,   as  rolled 

from  wing  to  wing, 
Down  all  our  line,  a  deafening  shout,    "God 

save  our  Lord  the  King !  " 
"And  if  my  standard-bearer  fall,  as  fall  full  well 

he  may. 
For  never  saw  I  promise  yet  of  such  a  bloody 

fray. 
Press   where   ye   see   my  white   plume   shine, 

amidst  the  ranks  of  war. 
And  be  your  oriflamme  to-day  the  helmet  of 

Navarre." 

Hurrah  !  the  foes  are  moving.     Hark  to  the 

mingled  din 
Of  fife,  and  steed,  and  trump,  and  drum,  and 

roaring  culverin. 
The   fiery  Duke  is  pricking   fast  across  Saint 

Andre's  plain. 
With  all  the  hireling  chivalry  of  Guelders  and 

Almayne. 
Now  by  the  lips  of  those  ye  love,  fair  gentlemen 

of  France, 
Charge  for  the  golden  lilies, — upon  them  with 

the  lance. 
A  thousand  spurs  are  striking  deep,  a  thousand 

spears  in  rest, 
A  thousand  knights  are  pressing  close  behind 

the  snow-white  crest : 


2i8  /Ibiscellancous  iC>oem6 


And  in  they  burst,  and  on  they  rushed,  while, 

like  a  guiding  star. 
Amidst  the  thickest  carnage  blazed  the  helmet 

of  Navarre. 

Now,  God  be  praised,  the  day  is  ours.     May- 

enne  hath  turned  his  rein. 
D'Aumale  hath  cried  for  quarter.     The  Flemish 

count  is  slain. 
Their  ranks  are  breaking  like  thin  clouds  before 

a  Biscay  gale ; 
The  field  is  heaped  with  bleeding  steeds,  and 

flags,  and  cloven  mail. 
And  then  we  thought  on   vengeance,  and,  all 

along  our  van, 
"Remember    St.     Bartholomew,"   was  passed 

from  man  to  man. 
But  out  spake  gentle  Henry  :  "  No  Frenchman 

is  my  foe  : 
Down,  down  with  every  foreigner,  but  let  your 

brethren  go." 
Oh  !  was  there  ever  such  a  knight,  in  friendship 

or  in  war. 
As  our  Sovereign  Lord,  King  Henry,  the  soldier 

of  Navarre  ? 

Right  well  fought  all   the  Frenchmen  who 
fought  for  France  to-day  ; 
And  many  a  lordly  banner  God  gave  them  for  a 
prey. 


Hvv^  219 

But  we  of  the  religion  have  borne  us  best  in 

fight; 
And   the   good  lyord  of  Rosny  hath  ta'en  the 

cornet  white. 
Our  own  true  Maximilian  the  cornet  white  hath 

ta'en, 
The  cornet  white  with  crosses  black,  the  flag  of 

false  Lorraine. 
Up  with  it  high  ;  unfurl  it  wide  ;  that  all  the 

host  may  know 
How  God  hath  humbled  the  proud  house  which 

wrought  his  church  such  woe. 
Then  on  the  ground,  while  trumpets  sound  their 

loudest  point  of  war, 
Fling  the  red  shreds,  a  footcloth  neat  for  Henry 

of  Navarre. 

Ho  !  maidens  of  Vienna ;  Ho  !  matrons  of 
Lucerne ; 

Weep,  weep,  and  rend  your  hair  for  those  who 
never  shall  return. 

Ho  !  Philip,  send,  for  charity,  thy  Mexican  pis- 
toles, 

That  Antwerp  monks  may  sing  a  mass  for  thy 
poor  spearmen's  souls. 

Ho  !  gallant  nobles  of  the  League,  look  that 
your  arms  be  bright ; 

Ho  !  burghers  of  Saint  Genevieve,  keep  watch 
and  ward  to-night. 


220  /iftiscellaneous  ipoems 

For  our  God  hath  crushed  the  tyrant,  our  God 

hath  raised  the  slave, 
And  mocked  the  counsel  of  the  wise,  and  the 

valor  of  the  brave. 
Then  glory  to  his  holy  name,  from  whom  all 

glories  are  ; 
And  glory  to  our  Sovereign  Lord,  King  Henry 

of  Navarre. 


^f^ 


THE  ARMADA. 


ATTEND,  all  ye  who  list  to  hear  our  noble 
England's  praise; 
I  tell  of  the  thrice  famous  deeds  she  wrought  in 

ancient  days, 
When  that  great  fleet  invincible  against  her 

bore  in  vain 
The  richest  spoils  of  Mexico,  the  stoutest  hearts 
of  Spain. 


It  was  about  the  lovely  close  of  a  warm  sum- 
mer day, 

There  came  a  gallant  merchant-ship  full  sail  to 
Plymouth  Bay  ; 

Her  crew  hath  seen  Castile's  black  fleet,  beyond 
Aurigny's  isle, 

At  earliest  twilight,  on  the  waves  lie  heaving 
many  a  mile. 

At  sunrise  she  escaped  their  van,  by  God's  es- 
pecial grace  ; 

And  the  tall  Pinta,  till  the  noon  had  held  her 
close  in  chase. 


222  /Hbi6cellaneou6  poema 

Forthwith  a  guard  at  every  gun  was  placed 

along  the  wall  ; 
The   beacon   blazed  upon   the  roof   of    Edge- 

cumbe's  lofty  hall ; 
Many  a  light  fishing  bark  put  out  to  pry  along 

the  coast, 
And  with  loose  rein  and  bloody  spur  rode  inland 

many  a  post. 
With  his  white  hair  unbonneted,  the  stout  old 

sheriff  comes ; 
Behind  him  march  the  halberdiers  ;  before  him 

sound  the  drums  ; 
His  yeomen  round  the  market  cross  make  clear 

an  ample  space ; 
For  there  behooves  him  to  set  up  the  standard 

of  Her  Grace. 
And  haughtily  the  trumpets  peal,   and  gayly 

dance  the  bells. 
As  slow  upon  the  laboring  wind  the  royal  blazon 

swells, 
Look  how  the  Lion  of  the  sea  lifts  up  his  ancient 

crowm, 
And  underneath  his  deadly  paw  treads  the  ga}- 

lilies  down. 
So  stalked  he  when  he  turned  to  flight,  on  that 

famed  Picard  field, 
Bohemia's  plume,  and  Genoa's  bow,  and  Cesar's 

eagle  shield. 
So  glared  he  when  at  Agincourt  in  wrath  he 

turned  to  bay, 


^be  BrmaDa  223 


And  crushed  and  torn  beneath  his  claws  the 

princely  hunters  lay. 
Ho  !  strike  the  flagstaff  deep,  Sir  Knight :   ho  ! 

scatter  flowers,  fair  maids : 
Ho !  gunners,  fire  a  loud  salute :   ho  !   gallants, 

draw  your  blades : 
Thou  sun,  shine  on  her  joyously  ;  ye  breezes, 

waft  her  wide  ;  [pride. 

Our  glorious  semper  Eadem,  the  banner  of  our 

The  freshening  breeze  of  eve  unfurled  that 

banner's  massy  fold ; 
The  parting  gleam  of   sunshine    kissed    that 

haughty  scroll  of  gold ; 
Night  sank  upon  the  dusky  beach,  and  on  the 

purple  sea, 
Such  night  in  England  ne'er  had  been,  nor  e'er 

again  shall  be. 
From  Eddystone  to  Berwick  bounds,  from  Lynn 

to  Milford  Bay, 
That  time  of  slumber  was  as  bright  and  busy  as 

the  day ; 
For  swift  to  east  and  swift  to  west  the  ghastly 

war-flame  spread, 
High  on  St.  Michael's  Mount  it  shone  :  it  shone 

on  Beachy  Head. 
Far  on  the  deep  the  Spaniard  saw,  along  each 

southern  shire, 
Cape    beyond    cape,    in    endless    range    those 

twinkling  points  of  fire. 


224  /Ifti9cellaneou0  ipoems 

The  fisher  left  his  skiff  to  rock  on  Tamar's  glit- 
tering waves  : 

The  rugged  miners  poured  to  war  from  Mendip's 
sunless  caves : 

O'er  Ivongleat's  towers,  o'er  Cran bourne's  oaks, 
the  fiery  herald  flew : 

He  roused  the  shepherds  of  vStonehenge,  the 
rangers  of  Beaulieu. 

Right  sharp  and  quick  the  bells  all  night  rang 
out  from  Bristol  town, 

And  ere  the  day  three  hundred  horse  had  met 
on  Clifton  down  ; 

The  sentinel  on  Whitehall  gate  looked  forth 
into  the  night, 

And  saw  o'erhanging  Richmond  Hill  the  streak 
of  blood-red  light. 

Then  bugle's  note  and  cannon's  roar  the  death- 
like silence  broke. 

And  with  one  start,  and  with  one  cr)-,  the  royal 
city  woke. 

At  once  on  all  her  stately  gates  arose  the  an- 
swering fires  ; 

At  once  the  wild  alarum  clashed  from  all  her 
reeling  spires  ; 

From  all  the  batteries  of  the  Tower  pealed  loud 
the  voice  of  fear  ; 

And  all  the  thousand  masts  of  Thames  sent 
back  a  louder  cheer  : 

And  from  the  farthest  wards  was  heard  the  rush 
of  hurrying  feet, 


trbe  BrmaDa  225 


And  the  broad  streams  of  pikes  and  flags  rushed 

down  each  roaring  street ; 
And  broader  still  became  the  blaze,  and  louder 

still  the  din, 
As  fast  from  every  village  round  the  horse  came 

spurring  in  : 
And  eastward  straight  from  wild  Blackheath  the 

warlike  errand  went, 
And  roused  in  man}-  an  ancient  hall  the  gallant 

squires  of  Kent. 
Southward  from  Surrey's  pleasant  hills  flew  those 

bright  couriers  forth ; 
High  on  bleak  Hampstead's  swarthy  moor  they 

started  for  the  north  ; 
And  on,  and  on,  without  a  pause,  untired  they 

bounded  still : 
All  night  from  tower  to  tower  they  sprang ; 

they  sprang  from  hill  to  hill : 
Till  the  proud  peak  unfurled  the  flag  o'er  Dar- 
win's rocky  dales, 
Till  like  volcanoes  flared  to  heaven  the  stormy 

hills  of  Wales, 
Till  twelve  fair  counties  saw  the  blaze  on  Mal- 
vern's lonely  height. 
Till  streamed  in  crimson  on  the  wind  the  Wrek- 

in's  crest  of  light. 
Till  broad  and  fierce  the  stars  came  forth  on 

Ely's  stately  fane. 
And  tower  and  hamlet  rose  in  arms  o'er  all  the 

boundless  plain  ; 


226  /Ilbl0cellancou0  pocme 


Till  Belvoir's  lordly  terraces  the  sign  to  Lincoln 

sent, 
And  Lincoln  sped  the  message  on  o'er  the  wide 

vale  of  Trent ; 
Till  Skiddaw  saw  the  fire  that  burned  on  Gaunt's 

embattled  pile, 
And    the    red    glare   on    Skiddaw   roused  the 

burghers  of  Carlisle, 
^fr  -x-  *  *  *  * 

1832. 


A 


A  RADICAL  WAR-SONG  (1820). 


AWAKE,  arise,  the  hour  is  come, 
For  rows  and  revolutions ; 
There  's  no  receipt  like  pike  and  drum 

For  crazy  constitutions. 
Close,  close  the  shop  !     Break,  break  the  loom  ! 

Desert  your  hearths  and  furrows, 
And  throng  in  arms  to  seal  the  doom 
Of  England's  rotten  boroughs. 

We  '11  stretch  that  tort' ring  Castlereagh 

On  his  own  Dublin  rack,  sir ; 
We  '11  drown  the  King  in  Eau  de  vie, 

The  Laureate  in  his  sack,  sir. 
Old  Eldon  and  his  sordid  hag 

In  molten  gold  we  '11  smother, 
And  stifle  in  his  own  green  bag 

The  Doctor  and  his  brother. 

In  chains  we  '11  hang  in  fair  Guildhall 
The  City's  famed  Recorder, 


228  ^iecellancous  ipoemg 


And  next  on  proud  St.  vStephen's  fall, 
Though  Wynne  should  squeak  to  order. 

In  vain  our  tyrants  then  shall  try 
To  'scape  our  martial  law,  .sir  ; 

In  vain  the  trembling  vSpeaker  cry 
That  *'  Strangers  must  withdraw,"  sir. 

Copley  to  hang  offends  no  text ; 

A  rat  is  not  a  man,  sir  ; 
With  schedules  and  with  tax  bills  next 

We  '11  bury  pious  Van,  sir. 
The  slaves  who  loved  the  Income  Tax, 

We  '11  crush  by  scores,  like  mites,  sir. 
And  him,  the  wretch  who  freed  the  blacks, 

And  more  enslaved  the  whites,  sir. 

The  peer  shall  dangle  from  his  gate 

The  bishop  from  his  steeple, 
Till  all  recanting,  own,  the  State 

Means  nothing  but  the  People. 
We  '11  fix  the  church's  revenues 

On  Apostolic  basis, — 
One  coat,  one  scrip,  one  pair  of  shoes, 

Shall  pay  their  strange  grimaces. 

We  '11  strap  the  bar's  deluding  train 

In  their  own  darling  halter. 
And  with  his  big  church  bible  brain 

The  parson  at  the  altar. 


a  IRaDical  Taaar-SonG  229 

Hail !  gloriour  hour,  when  fair  Refonu 
Shall  bless  our  longing  nation, 

And  Hunt  receive  commands  to  form 
A  new  administration. 

Carlisle  shall  sit  enthroned  where  sat 

Our  Cranmer  and  our  Seeker, 
And  Watson  show  his  snow-white  hat 

In  England's  rich  Exchequer. 
The  breast  of  Thistlewood  shall  wear 

Our  Wellesley's  star  and  sash,  man. 
And  many  a  mausoleum  fair 

Shall  rise  to  honest  Cashman. 

Then,  then  beneath  the  nine-tailed  cat 

Shall  they  who  used  it  writhe,  sir  ; 
And  curates  lean  and  rectors  fat 

Shall  dig  the  ground  they  tithe,  sir  ; 
Down  with  your  Bayleys  and  your  Bests, 

Your  Giflfords  and  your  Gumeys  : 
We  '11  clear  the  island  of  the  pests, 

Which  mortals  name  attorneys. 

Down  with  your  sheriffs  and  your  mayors. 

Your  registrars  and  proctors. 
We  '11  live  without  the  lawyer's  cares, 

And  die  without  the  doctor's. 
No  discontented  fair  shall  pout 

To  see  her  spouse  so  stupid  ; 


230  /nbiecellaneoue  poems 


We  '11  tread  the  torch  of  Hymen  out, 
And  live  content  with  Cupid. 

Then  when  the  high-born  and  the  great 

Are  humbled  to  our  level, 
On  all  the  wealth  of  Church  and  State, 

Like  aldermen  we  *11  revel. 
We  '11  live,  when  hushed  the  battle's  din, 

In  smoking  and  in  cards,  sir, 
In  drinking  unexcised  gin. 

And  wooing  fair  Poissardes,  sir. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  MONCONTOUR  (1824). 


O 


H  !  weep  for  Moucontour  !     Oh  !  weep  for 
the  hour 
When   the  children  of  darkness  and  evil  had 

power, 
When  the   horsemen  of    Valois    triumphantly 

trod 
On  the  bosoms  that  bled  for  their  rights  and 
their  God ! 

Oh  !  weep  for  Moncontour  !     Oh  !  weep  for  the 

slain, 
Who  for  faith  and  for  freedom  lay  slaughtered 

in  vain  ; 
O,  weep  for  the  living,  who  linger  to  bear 
The  renegade's  shame,  or  the  exile's  despair  ! 

One  look,  one  last  look,   to  our  cots  and  our 

towers. 
To  the  rows  of  our  vines,  and  the  beds  of  our 

flowers. 


232  /ifcisccllaneous  poems 

To  the  church  where  the  bones  of  our  fathers 

decayed, 
Where   we   fondly   had   deemed  that  our  own 

would  be  laid. 

Alas  !  we  must  leave  thee,  dear  desolate  home. 
To  the  spearmen  of  Uri,  the  shavelings  of  Rome, 
To  the  serpent  of  Florence,  the  vulture  of  Spain, 
To  the  pride  of  Anjou,  and  the  guile  of  Lorraine, 

Farewell    to    thy    fountains,    farewell    to    thy 

shades, 
To  the  song  of  thy  youths,  and  the  dance  of 

thy  maids, 
To  the  breath  of  thy  gardens,  the  hum  of  thy 

bees, 
And  the  long  waving  line  of  the  blue  Pyrenees. 

Farewell  and  forever.  The  priest  and  the  slave 
May  rule  in  the  halls  of  the  free  and  the  brave. 
Our  hearths  we  abandon  ;  our  lands  we  resign  ; 
But,  Father,  we  kneel  to  no  altar  but  thine. 


SONGS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR. 

THE    BATTI^E   OF   XASEBY,    BY    OBADIAH    BIND- 
THEIR  -  KINGS  -  IN  -  CHAINS  -  AND  -  THEIR- 
NOBI.es  -  T\T[TH  -  THINKS  -  OF  -  IRON,    SER- 
JEANT IN  IRETON'S  REGIMENT. 

(1824.) 


OH !  wherefore  came  ye   forth,  in  triumph 
from  the  North, 
With  your  hands,   and  your  feet,  and    your 
raiment  all  red  ? 
And  wherefore   doth   your  rout    send   forth   a 
joyous  shout? 
And  whence  be  the  grapes  of  the  wine-press 
which  ye  tread  ? 

Oh  !  e\41  was  the  root,  and  bitter  was  the  fruit, 
And  crimson  was  the  juice  of  the  vintage  that 
we  trod ; 
For  we  trampled  on  the  throng  of  the  haughty 
and  the  strong, 
Who  sate  in  the  high  places,    and  slew  the 
saints  of  God. 


234  /Ilbiscellaneous  I0oem6 


It  was  about  tlie  noon  of  a  glorious  day  in  June, 
That  we  saw  their  banners  dance,  and  their 
cuirasses  shine  ; 
And  the  Man  of  Blood  was  there,  with  his  long 
essenced  hair, 
And  Astley,  and  Sir  Marmaduke,  and  Rupert 
of  the  Rhine. 

Like  a  servant  of  the  Lord,  with  his  Bible  and 
his  sword, 
The  General  rode  along  us  to  form  us  to  the 
fight, 
When   a  murmuring    sound    broke    out,    and 
swelled  into  a  shout, 
Among    the     godless    horsemen    upon    the 
tyrant's  right. 

And  hark  !  like  the  roar  of  the  billows  on  the 
shore, 
The  cry  of  battle  rises  along  their  charging 
line  ! 
For  God !  for  the  Cause !  for  the  Church  !  for 
the  Laws  ! 
For  Charles  King  of  England,  and  Rupert  of 
the  Rhine  ! 

The  furious  German  comes,  with  his  clarions 
and  his  drums, 


Boms  ot  tbe  Civil  War  235 

His  bravoes  of  Alsatia,  and  pages  of  White- 
hall ; 
They  are  bursting  on  our  flanks.     Grasp  ^-our 
pikes,  close  your  ranks  ; 

For  Rupert  never  comes  but  to  conquer  or  to 
fall. 

They  are  here  !  They  rush  on  !  We  are  broken  ! 
We  are  gone  ! 
Our  left  is  borne  before  them  like  stubble  on 
the  blast. 
O  I^ord,  put  forth  thy  might  !     O  Lord,  defend 
the  right ! 
Stand  back  to  back,  in  God's  name,  and  fight 
it  to  the  last. 

Stout  Skippon  hath  a  wound  ;  the  centre  hath 
given  ground  : 
Hark  !  hark  !    What  means  the  trampling  of 
horsemen  on  our  rear  ? 
Whose  banner  do  I  see,  boys  ?     'T  is  he,  thank 
God,  't  is  he,  boys. 
Bear  up  another    minute  :     brave  Oliver  is 
here. 

Their  heads  all  stooping  low,  their  points  all  in 
a  row, 
I/ike  a  whirlwind  on  the  trees,  like  a  deluge 
on  the  dykes, 


236  /Ilbl0cellancou6  poems 

Our  cuirassiers  have  burst  on  the  ranks  of  the 
Accurst, 
And  at  a  shock  have  scattered  the  forest  of 
his  pikes. 

Fast,  fast,  the  gallants  ride,  in  some  safe  nook 
to  hide 
Their  coward  heads,  predestined  to  rot  on 
Temple  Bar  ; 
And  he — he  turns,  he  flies  : — shame  on  those 
cruel  eyes 
That  bore  to  look  on  torture,  and  dare  not  look 
on  war. 

Ho  !  comrades  scour  the  plain,  and  ere  ye  strip 
the  slain. 
First  give  another  stab  to  make  your  search 
secure. 
Then  shake   from   sleeves   and  pockets   their 
broad  pieces  and  lockets. 
The  token  of  the  wanton,  the  plunder  of  the 
poor. 

Fools !   your   doublets  shone    with    gold,    and 
your  hearts  were  gay  and  bold. 
When  you   kissed  your  lily  hands  to  your 
lemans  to-day  ; 

And  to-morrow  shall  the  fox,  from  her  chambers 
in  the  rocks. 


Sottas  ot  tbe  Civil  lUar  237 

Lead  forth  her  tawny  cubs  to  howl  above  the 
prey. 

Where  be  your  tongues  that  late  mocked  at 
heaven  and  hell  and  fate, 
And  the  fingers  that  once  were  so  busy  with 
your  blades, 
Your  perfumed  satin  clothes,  your  catches  and 
your  oaths. 
Your  stage  plays  and  your  sonnets,  your  dia- 
monds and  your  spades  ? 

Down,  down,  forever  down  with  the  mitre  and 
the  crown. 
With  the  Belial  of  the  Court,  and  the  Mammon 
of  the  Pope ; 
There  is  woe  in  Oxford  Halls  ;  there  is  wail  in 
Durham's  Stalls ; 
The    Jesuit  smites  his   bosom ;    the   Bishop 
rends  his  cope. 

And  She  of  the  seven  hills  shall   mourn  her 
children's  ills. 
And  tremble  when  she  thinks  on  the  edge  of 
England's  sword  ; 
And  the  Kings  of  earth  in  fear  shall  shudder 
when  they  hear 
What  the  hand  of  God  hath  wrought  for  the 
Houses  and  the  Word. 


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